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MIKE DONOVAN AS HE IS TO-DAY 



THE ROOSEVELT 
THAT I KNOW 

TEN YEARS OF BOXING WITH THE 
PRESIDENT— AND OTHER MEMO- 
RIES OF FAMOUS FIGHTING MEN 

By MIKE DONOVAN 

EX-CHAMPION MIDDLEWEIGHT OF AMERICA AND 
BOXING-MASTEB OP THE NEW YOBK ATHLETIC CLUB 

[Edited by F. H. N.] 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK 
B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 

1909 



\ 









LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Oooies Received 

FEB 23 laoa 

, Ccpyrijrnt Entry 
CLASS Q_ XXC. No. 
COPY 3. 



Copyright, 1909, by 
B. W. DODGE & COMPANY 



Registered at Stationers' Hall, London 
(All Rights Reserved) 



Printed in the United States of America 



PKEFACE 

Mike Donovan's ring record is one that 
any champion, including the greatest of modern 
times, might be proud of, for it includes bruis- 
ing battles with men of the foremost ring posi- 
tions. His encounters with John L. Sullivan, 
Walter Watson, McClellan, George Rooke and 
Jack Dempsey were of the most astonishing 
character, and his match with Jack Dempsey, 
then the phenomenal champion, caused quite a 
commotion among the swell set in the East, for 
the "old man," as Mike Donovan was called, 
simply astonished them by besting the crack 
champion, who was quite a young man in com- 
parison with his rival. This engagement with 
Dempsey was the crowning feather in the pro- 
fessor's scientific fighting cap, and the members 
of the New York Athletic Club, who, almost to 



PEEFACE 



a man, witnessed the great tattle, were amazed 
at the wonderful stamina and science that their 
teacher displayed against the Nonpareil of the 
American prize ring. — New York Herald. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Roosevelt that I Know 3 

II. Kate Carew's Interview with Me 21 

III. I Meet Young John L. Sullivan 37 

IV. I Box with Sullivan throughout the Country 47 
V. What Happened to the Brawny Scot 63 

VI. Burke, of Saginaw, a Good Man 80 

VII. Sullivan's Last Fight in New York 103 

VIII. Sullivan Beats Kilrain 120 

IX. Corbett Comes on the Scene 136 

X. Corbett Starts for the Battle with Sullivan 162 

XI. The Fall of John L. Sullwan 181 

XII. Sullivan's Sound Sense 196 

XIII. My Fight with Dempsey 208 

XIV. A Word to the Fighting Boys of the Pres- 

ent Day 223 

XV. Modern Fighters „ 231 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 



THE 

ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 



CHAPTER I 

THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

All the world knows Theodore Roosevelt, the 
statesman; the man who turned the light on 
the corporate highwaymen. 

He has made the "Big Stick" respected. 

But the "Big Stick" must be guided by law, 
not so the fist; wherever you see a head hit it 
is the fighting rule ; a word and a blow, but the 
blow first — the reverse of legal practice. 

In the following pages I propose to describe 
Theodore Roosevelt, the fighter, untrammeled 
by legal restriction ; the lover of fistic encounter, 
as I know him; the man of brawn aiid muscle, 



4 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

with a genuine fighting spirit and the courage of 
two ordinary men to sustain its promise. I in- 
tend further to describe his methods of attack 
and defense, and to note the analogy between the 
spirit he exhibits in boxing and that which has 
urged him on in those political encounters which 
have made him famous. 

A succession of glove-fights with him, cover- 
ing a period of more than ten years, in which 
we have met as man to man, where it was give 
and take, with no restrictions, gives me the 
right to speak authoritatively, and I wish to 
say here that, whether or not he was champion 
of his class in college, about which there has 
been some discussion in the press, it is admitted 
that he was an able fighting man then, ready to 
take his medicine and try again. I can say that 
he is the same man now — a man who asks no 
favors, cool in a fight, determined, aggressive, 
consumed with the purpose to overcome resist- 
ance, to win; a glutton for punishment, as the 
ring phrase goes. It is no exaggeration when 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 5 

I say that, in some mix-ups with him, I have 
been compelled to resort to all the arts and de- 
vices that have come to me from years of seri- 
ous fighting, often to slug right and left to save 
myself, y 

I have noted his career in politics, seen him 
go for the mark there with the same pertinacity 
that he shows when boxing. Besistance, discom- 
fiture, hard knocks in one domain as in the 
other serve only to make him keener, to whet his 
appetite for the fray. Had he come to the 
prize-ring, instead of to the political arena, it 
is my conviction he would have been successful. 
The man is a born fighter; it's in his blood. 

There are some who are easily diverted from 
their purpose, some who go impetuously for- 
ward with dash and spirit which will not be de- 
nied, but once the attack seems hopeless they 
hesitate and fly panic-stricken in hopeless dis- 
order. A few only remain; these, with convic- 
tion imbedded in their very souls, cannot be 
stayed, even though they themselves would will 



6 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

it. They go tumultuously forward, even to the 
death. 

Theodore Roosevelt is of them. 

He reminds one of the biblical general who, 
his men faint-hearted, wavering, at sight of the 
overpowering on-rush of Philistines, faced the 
tide undaunted, so firm was his purpose that 
he furiously laid about him till the last. 

Even in death, the Bible tells us : "His sword 
clave to his hand." That is to say, the hilt of 
his sword was found to be imbedded in his palm, 
a sure indication that he never wavered from 
his purpose of attack. 

I have a vivid recollection of my first fistic 
encounter with Theodore Eoosevelt. The Gov- 
ernor left me in the old billiard-room of the 
Executive Mansion at Albany, which he had 
fitted up as a gymnasium for his boys, in order 
that they might begin their physical education 
under his eye. 

He then went downstairs to don his boxing 
clothes. 




The P/t&SfDtnr has a&ooo R/ghT 

^A-*> PROP 00/^DV/AM A^j, WME.M ,T 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 7 

In a few minutes he returned. 

It was the Governor of the State of New 
York who had left me. It was a fighting man 
who entered the room. He wore a sleeveless 
flannel shirt, his khaki Rough-rider uniform 
trousers and light canvas shoes without heels. 
First, I was struck by the expression of his 
eyes, which are large, light blue, placed well 
apart, aggressive, fearless, persistent. He is 
about 5 feet 8 inches in height, but his great 
breadth of shoulders and bulk of body make 
him seem shorter. His arms are short, but 
heavy and well-muscled. His head is that of 
the typical fighter. It is broad and symmetrical, 
poised on a powerful neck. A plumb-line could 
be dropped from the back of his head to his 
waist. That formation shows not only the fight- 
ing spirit, but the physical vigor to sustain it. 
His short, thick body, with its high, arched chest, 
is sturdily set on unusually strong, sinewy legs. 

I noticed he wore no belt, and told him he had 
better put p?ie on, 



8 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

He borrowed one from my brother Jerry. 
After pulling on his gloves he stepped forward 
on to the mat. Most men, on coming to box for 
the first time with a champion, present or re- 
tired, show some trepidation. There was none 
of that here. 

After we shook hands I studied him carefully. 
Then I led a left jab, following it up with a 
faint-hearted right that landed like a love-tap 
high up on his cheek. 

He dropped his hands and stopped. 

"Look here, Mike," he said indignantly; 
"that is not fair." 

I was afraid I had done something wrong. 
"What's the matter, Governor?" I asked. 

"You are not hitting me," he said, shaking 
his head. "I'd like you to hit out." 

"All right, Governor," I said, thinking to 
myself, this man has a pretty good opinion of 
himself. 

We started in again, and I sent in a hard 
right to the body as he rushed in, and then tried 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 9 

a swinging left for the jaw. He stepped inside 
and drove his right to my ear. 

It jarred me down to the heels. 

I realized from that moment that the Gov- 
ernor was no ordinary amateur. If I took 
chances with him I was endangering my repu- 
tation. 

From that day I have taken no chances with 
Theodore Eoosevelt with the gloves. 

I've hit him many times as hard as ever I hit 
a fighter in the ring, without stopping him, and 
thousands know how hard I can hit. 

I want to say, now, that I never saw him 
wince or show even by an involuntary sign that 
he was discomfited in spirit, no matter how se- 
vere the bodily pain. On the contrary, it met 
with only that characteristic turning of the head 
a bit to the side, a grim smile and a determined 
setting of the bulldog jaw, followed by another 
rush. 

Theodore Eoosevelt is a strong, tough man; 
hard to hurt, and harder to stop. 



10 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

From the very first I was struck with the 
kindly nature of the man. Though pressed with 
business as he always was, his mind full of 
problems, with a crowd of importunate office- 
seekers and would-be advisers forever at his 
heels, he hailed my appearance with genuine de- 
light, and always found time to inquire after 
my doings and welfare. Sometimes I thought 
it was the getting away from the exactions of 
office, the temporary respite from official cares 
that my coming signaled, that made me so wel- 
come ; again, that diplomatic intrigue, the wran- 
gling of officials, intemperate attacks of the op- 
posing party, all of which must be settled with 
words, mere words, stirred his impatient blood 
to the boiling point. A box on the ear here, a 
smash in the wind there, I could readily guess, 
would have suited his impulsive nature far bet- 
ter. In most of his affairs it is the diplomatic 
"Having the honor to be" — but never doing 
anything. He must hit somebody, hit him hard, 
and I thought I turned up opportunely to get 
,what was coming to somebody else. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 11 

This was my first impression. A mistaken 
one as I soon learned. However he might have 
settled political discussions in the ring, or let 
rivals for a post-office wrestle it out — best two 
out of three falls to get the job — it was never 
in his mind to hand out to me the punishment 
that was theirs. He had come to like me, be- 
cause he found me an authority in a domain that 
particularly interested him, because I repre- 
sented the straightforward method of the real 
fighting man, who fights because he loves to 
fight and brings no hard feelings, no animosity 
into the game. 

Many's the time I have been passed through 
a throng of waiting politicians of high rank, oft- 
en enough summoned by the sudden bobbing 
around a door of the President's head, with a: 

" Hello, Mike; come right in!" 

It seemed to me that though immersed in po- 
litical conflicts, that kind of fighting never suf- 
ficed to warm his blood, for I never saw a man 
more willing to take a good jolt just for the 
pleasure of giving one back. 



12 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

One day while I was waiting in the office for 
my turn to see the President, I witnessed an in- 
cident which proved the truth of my belief that 
under his rugged, aggressive exterior there 
lay a vein of kindliness and sympathy. 

The last of the long line of visitors was a 
woman accompanied by a young girl apparently 
her daughter, who had been introduced to the 
President by a man whom I took to be the Con- 
gressman from their home. She was impor- 
tuning the President for a favor which, for 
some reason, he was unable to grant. 

The thought flashed through my mind that 
this woman was trying to get a pardon for her 
son — perhaps a deserter. The President lis- 
tened attentively, then shook his head emphati- 
cally. 

"Fm sorry, madam," he said, "but I can't 
doit." 

"But, Mr. President," she urged, "won't 
you " 

"Madam," he replied, stepping back as she 




KQUNO 7L 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 13 

came toward him, "I can't do it. I cannot do 
it." 

As she turned away, very sorrowful, he came 
toward me. His eyes were sad. The corners of 
his mouth drooped. His face was flushed deep 
red. The veins on his neck stood out. He was 
a picture of distress. 

The incident proved the truth of the old rule 
that a man cannot be a good fighter unless he 
has a good heart. 

The first time I was invited to the White 
House to box with the President was in Janu- 
ary, 1904. I found him the same enthusiastic, 
simply democratic, kindly man I had boxed with 
four years earlier at Albany. 

I have learned, in my association with the 
President, though it has been confined solely to 
sparring bouts, that the really great are never 
pompous ; but, on the contrary, simple and sin- 
cere. 

Though he has a quiet dignity that brooks no 
familiarity, the genuineness of the man, his di- 



14 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

rectness, earnestness, at once puts you at your 
ease, and the consideration, which seems bred 
in his bone, warms you to him at the very start. 

"Why don't you stay for the reception to- 
night, Mike ? ' ' said he one afternoon after a ten- 
round bout. 

"Why, Mr. President,' ' I replied, "I haven't 
the proper clothes for anything like that." 

"Oh, you mean a dress-suit. Say, Mike, I'll 
lend you one of mine." 

I caught his eye as, with the characteristic 
movement of the head to one side, he grinned 
encouragingly at me and, seeing that he really 
meant it, I looked from his full figure to my own 
slender outlines and burst out laughing. 

"Why, what's the matter, Mikel" 

The words were scarce out of his mouth when 
he caught the reason for my hesitancy — the 
same ridiculous figure appeared in his mind's 
eye that I had pictured myself, as wearing his 
clothes, and he caught the infection, and for 
some moments we stood facing each other and 
laughed ourselves hoarse, 




J?OtfHP 3£L 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 15 

"I'll tell yon what I'll do, Mr. President," I 
said, when I had recovered, "I'll hire a dress- 
suit." 

So I did, and a disappointing fit it was, 
though the best I could do — a pinch in the waist 
and shoulder, and too long in the sleeves and 
legs. For a moment I determined to give over 
the idea of the reception, but on second thought 
I remembered that I had promised to come and 
that he expected me. I put on as good a face as 
I could, and feeling very uncomfortable — about 
as much at home, in fact, as a sheep in a lion's 
skin — presented myself at the White House and 
edged timidly into the background, an uncertain 
and inconspicuous shadow in the gay throng. 

I would shake hands with the President and 
fade away. I thought I would be a temporary, 
rather than a permanent, exhibit. 

He motioned me toward him. 

As I advanced, the major-domo stopped me 
and said, "Name, please." 

The President heard him and called, "Oh, 



16 THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

there is no need of introducing Mike to me," at 
the same time reaching out and drawing me 
toward him. But the President's sharp eye 
caught me unawares while I was trying to push 
my shoulders further into the coat, thus to 
make the sleeves seem not so ridiculously long. 

" Hello, Mike!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad to 
see you." 

He must have noted my discomfort and em- 
barrassment, read it in my face; for, leaning 
over, he whispered, "It's all right, Mike. You 
look first-rate." 

It was a great relief ; my features relaxed and 
I breathed freer. Indeed, I stayed for some 
time, enjoying it thoroughly. I could not ob- 
serve that I attracted any unfavorable attention 
and, concluding that my appearance was not 
nearly as bad as I thought, gave the matter no 
further concern. 

On the evening of March 3, 1904, the day be- 
fore the inauguration, between five and six 
o'clock, the President and I had a "go" of some 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 17 

ten rounds. He was as happy as a schoolboy 
as he stripped for the fray. 

" After the inauguration to-morrow," he said, 
"I go out to the Eockies on a hunt for four or 
five weeks and live the simple life." 

He loves the Western mountaineers and 
plainsmen. "Now, Mike," he said, "we must 
have a good, long bout this evening. It'll 
brighten me up for to-morrow, which will be a 
trying day." 

We boxed the ten hard, long rounds. He had 
improved so much in his practice with me that 
winter that I had to resort to all the strategy 
that my experience had taught me. After the 
fifth round I felt like calling a halt, but did not 
want to appear to be a quitter. We were hav- 
ing it hot and heavy ; in an exchange I tried to 
land a right-hand body blow, ducking to avoid 
a left-hand counter. Instead he struck me a 
flush right-hander on the top of the head, knock- 
ing me sprawling to the mat, The blow jarred 
me quite a bit. As I got to my feet, he said ; 



18 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

"That's a good make-believe knock-down, 
Mike." Evidently he did not realize how hard 
he hit me. 

"Mr. President," I rejoined, "I would not let 
even you knock me down if I could help it." I 
felt a bit nettled. We started in again, ham- 
mer and tongs, and I kept a sharp lookout for 
his clever play with the left and follow with 
the right. 

I will say right here I never was more ex- 
tended with any man I ever boxed with than in 
this go. At the close he was perspiring pro- 
fusely, but seemed fresh enough to go much 
longer. I sat down and began to puff. He was 
sitting beside me and said, "Mike, did I under- 
stand you to say you are going to march in the 
parade with the Catholic Protectory Band of 
New York to-morrow? If so, I would like to 
have you ask Mr. Eyan, the bandmaster, to 
have his band play ' Garry Owen' as it passes 
the reviewing stand." 

I said, "I will certainly do so, Mr. President, 
with a great deal of pleasure." 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 19 

,This is the great Irish fighting air, which was 
played by Irish bagpipes at the famous battle 
of Vinegar Hill, in Ireland, against the British 
troops. The air so inspired- the Irishmen that 
they repulsed the regular British soldiers with 
their musketry and cannons, although they had 
nothing in their hands but pitchforks and pikes; 
and gained them the victory. 

It was to this same tune that Custer led his 
valiant troop of cavalry to death in the battle 
of the Little Big Horn. 

The next morning I went to the band head- 
quarters, which I had found after an all-night 
search, and delivered my message to Bandmas- 
ter Eyan. He said, "Did the President say 
that?" I replied, "You may rely upon it." 
"Well." said he, "I'll play it as he never heard 
it played before." 

That afternoon we marched down the avenue, 
turned the corner at the Treasury Building, 
Fifteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and 
the eighty buglers which comprised the boy 



20 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

band began the first stanza of "Garry Owen." 
The President, hearing them coming, clapped 
his hands, saying, "Here they come! here they 
come!" He was so delighted that, when they 
were passing, he shouted, "Well done, boys! 
well done!" As I came along in the rear of 
the band, the President spied me and called out, 
"Hello there, Mike! How are you, old man?" 

Vice-President Fairbanks was on the review- 
ing stand, and, as I was informed afterward, 
he inquired, "Who is this Mike?" He was told 
that it was Professor Mike Donovan, who 
had been boxing with the President. He said, 
"Very interesting, indeed." 

The bandmaster and the boys were extremely 
proud of the greeting they received from the 
President, and so was I. 




RQViib 



CHAPTEE n 



KATE CABEw's INTERVIEW WITH MB 



I can't give any better story of my acquaint- 
ance with Mr, Boosevelt, and my own life, than 
that given in the World by Miss Kate Carew: 

A commanding figure looms over the national 
horizon. A formidable figure, forsooth — the fig- 
ure of Prof. "Mike" Donovan, the savant of 
self-defense. 

Through the ruck of news, warlike and peace- 
ful, from the seats of the mighty came on Fri- 
day the momentous intelligence that the Presi- 
dent of the United States had need of Prof. 
Donovan. 

Letters were told of missives traced by the 
Presidential pen, wherein the learned professor 
^as bidden to repair to Washington after the 

21 



22 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

holidays and apply himself to the congenial 
task of being punched by the Chief Executive 
of the nation, and in the meantime to recom- 
mend a local savant worthy of the minor honor 
of being punched by the Chief Executive's 
progeny. 

Hence this hurried narrative of a seance with 
Prof. Donovan. Not easily was it engineered, 
for the professor is as modest as he is learned, 
and he was greatly distressed at the news of the 
Presidential command having become public 
through the indiscretion of a friend in such a 
way as to cast upon him, as he feared, the odium 
of having boasted of the Presidential friend- 
ship. But let it be proclaimed at once that Prof. 
Donovan is incapable — except perhaps in the 
exercise of his important art — of doing any- 
thing to anger any right-minded person* 

Altogether, there were six of us present, but 
only four really counted — the Professor, the 
Scientist, Capt. Jack Crawford and I. The two 
that didn't count were the Boy and the Chape- 
ron. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 23 

Take my word for it, it would do any man 
good to associate with Prof. Donovan. He is 
as wholesome as a big red apple. I never en- 
vied the President of the United States before, 
but I do now, because he can send for his old 
"Mike" and have him come. Everybody calls 
him "Mike" — the President, the Scientist, 
Capt. Jack Crawford and everybody. I'd like 
to call him "Mike" myself, and I don't think 
he'd mind, and perhaps some day — but so far 
I've only met him once. 

Prof. Donovan— -it's unnaturally formal, but 
I can't help it — Prof. Donovan, then, is bald 
and snowy and russet-cheeked and as spry as 
a kitten. His shoulders are broad, of course, 
and his figure is all that doth become a man and 
an athlete, and his hands are large and knotty 
— one of them misshapen from an injury in a 
fight. But whereas shoulders and shape and 
fists are the most important things about the 
ordinary pugilist, the most important thing 
about Prof, "Mike" is his face. 



24 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Such a fine old face Prof. "Mike" has! You 
might search through many colleges of more 
esoteric learning than his without finding an- 
other professor with such a fine old face. It's 
as kind a face as you've ever seen, and as sim- 
ple and as childlike, and yet in a subtle way 
it's the face of a fighter, too. 

It's the face of a fighter who fights without a 
spark of malice — who can fight a man and love 
him and be loved by him. And that's the sort 
of man Prof. "Mike" is. The business of fight- 
ing has given him some mannerisms — a curi- 
ously alert way of cocking his head to one side, 
a flashing glance up from under his eyebrows, a 
certain swing of the body and a dancing quick- 
ness in the gestures of his hands — but socially 
he is the gentlest of men, full of quaint humor 
and quick sympathy and very courtly to the 
other sex. Nor is the other sex unreciprocal. 
It is easy to picture Prof. "Mike" the petted 
center of a circle of duchesses. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 25 

A STRICTLY PERSONAL QUESTION" 

I asked him how old he was, and the Scientist 
interjected: "Whatever Mike tells you, add 
twenty years to it. ' ' Whereupon the Professor 
and the Scientist had a verbal sparring match 
replete with jovial banter and appertaining 
chiefly to a silver championship belt of Prof. 
"Mike's," which the Scientist insists upon re- 
garding as the champion liar's belt, at the same 
time admitting that not till he himself is dead 
will the Professor be entitled to wear it. How- 
ever, the squabble ended in a definite statement 
on the part of the Professor that he is fifty- 
eight, and has been boxing for thirty-nine years, 
and his blue eyes danced with pride as he said 
it. Did I forget to mention that his eyes are 
blue ? They are very blue, indeed. 

I wished to know how he happened to become 
a boxer. 

"Why, I was born for it!" he exclaimed. 
"Just as soon as I was old enough to put up 



26 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

my hands I couldn't help putting 'em up" — 
and up went the hands in that dancing gesture 
I have spoken of. 

He went on to tell how his brother Jerry, who 
seems to have been a famous fighter before him, 
tried to discourage him from exercising this in- 
born tendency, and gave him many a thrashing 
for fighting other small boys, and made him 
very sore at heart, as well as elsewhere, until 
one day somebody remonstrated with Jerry, 
saying, " Jerry, what makes you act so mean to 
that kid? He'll grow up and be a credit to you 
if you treat him right, but if you go on pound- 
ing him like that, people will think you're afraid 
of his cutting you out some day." After which 
the Spartan Jerry ceased from troubling, and 
the infant Mike made prodigious strides in the 
art of fighting. 

The Scientist questioned him about his first 
fight, and how he felt over it. 

" Golly! I was the proudest thing you ever 
saw ! ' ' exclaimed the Professor. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 27 

"Did you win?" 

"No, I lost on a foul, but it wasn't my fault. 
You see, I didn't know the rules properly, and 
when the other fellow kept dropping on his 
knees to escape punishment it made me mad, 
and I just picked him up and walloped him 
good, like this"— and the Professor threw his 
right arm around an imaginary neck, dragged 
an imaginary head up to the level of his hip and 
bombarded an imaginary face with his left. 

There were more reminiscences of Fistiana, 
and I wish I had time to repeat some of them. 
And there were learned disquisitions on the finer 
points of the art and on the comparative advan- 
tages of gloves and bare knuckles. Briefly, a 
more cutting blow can be delivered with the 
knuckles, but a harder and perhaps more dam- 
aging one with a glove, because the hand is pro- 
tected from injury, and a man accustomed to 
boxing with gloves is in great danger of dis- 
abling his hands if he become involved in an 
impromptu fight with bare hands, because his 
tendency will be to strike recklessly hard. 



28 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Moreover, Prof. Donovan's experience goes 
to show that a boxer's training hampers him in 
a street fight, because he instinctively observes 
the rules of fair play, greatly to his own detri- 
ment. There was a story illustrating this, and 
I wish I had time to tell it in his own words. He 
was set upon by a gang of roughs while walk- 
ing home from the New York Athletic Club, and 
having spent the day sparring with young 
stockbrokers and the like, he was very tired. 

" Golly! I was tired," he said. "I was so 
tired that I walked along with my shoulders 
bent like an old man." 

I could imagine what he looked like — a nice, 
venerable little old gentleman dragging himself 
home to a supper of gruel and dry toast. 

No feminine pen could do justice to that Ho- 
meric combat. Not that Prof. Donovan nar- 
rated it Homerically. He was strictly technical, 
but one could read between the lines that it was 
a showy affair. I forget how many men in 
buckram there were, but our Professor had 




The 
oMur 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 29 

knocked down a few of them and never thought 
of kicking or hitting below the belt, till suddenly 
he was overthrown by reinforcements and given 
a terrific kicking. And even then there was 
fight left in him to such an extent that when a 
policeman appeared he was in danger of being 
taken for the aggressor if a sympathetic by- 
stander had not explained that the old gentle- 
man had not started the fight — a climax which 
the Professor unfolded with much humor. 

PARKIES A DELICATE ONE 

"What sort of a boxer is President Roose- 
velt ?" I inquired. 

Professor "Mike" cocked a blue eye at me, 
wrinkled up his scarred forehead and said: 

"Did you ever hear Capt. Jack recite that 
great poem of his, ' Where the Hand of God Is 
Seen'? No? Oh, Capt. Jack, will you oblige 
with ' Where the Hand of God Is Seen'?" 

Capt. Jack, nothing loath, obliged with 



30 THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

"Where the Hand of God Is Seen," and for 
some time thereafter nothing was said about 
the President. 

But after a while I induced Capt. Jack to en- 
tertain the Scientist, the Boy and the Chaperon 
with the story of his life, including his opinion 
of Buffalo Bill and the evils of cigarette smok- 
ing, and I drew the Professor away. He looked 
alarmed. 

"Did you ever hear anybody like Capt. 
Jack?" he said. "Did you ever hear such love- 
ly sentiments, ma'am? By golly! I'd give any- 
thing to have his talent. He can talk right 
ahead without stopping for two hours. I never 
heard such language!" 

Gently but firmly I detached his attention 
from Capt. Jack, and directed it toward the 
President of the United States, and when I 
made it clear that I was not going to try to 
pump him about Mr. Eoosevelt's letters to him 
or his projected engagement at the White 
House, he was greatly relieved and didn't mind 
saying everything else that was in his heart. 




RoonO 1 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 31 

"But it makes me feel bad, those letters be- 
ing told about in the papers," he said. "How- 
ever, the President knows me, and he will know 
I didn't do it intentionally. I wouldn't have 
told the newspaper boys about it for the world. 
You've no idea what a nice man the President 
is. He's the kindest, best, truest man I ever 
met. Oh, I've known him and boxed with him 
a long time. He calls me 'Mike,' and we're 
great friends." 

"Well, you don't really mind if I repeat all 
the nice things you say about him?" 

"Oh, no; not a bit. I couldn't say too many 
nice things about him." 

"Is he a hard hitter?" 

"Oh, my golly! yes. He comes right at you 
hot and heavy. And strong — why, he's got an 
arm as hard as a rock!" 

"Is he a good-tempered boxer?" 

"Oh, golly! yes. He wouldn't be such a good 
boxer if he wasn't good-tempered. Why, he's 
a happy man. He was born with that smile." 



32 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

The Professor set his teeth and peeled his lips 
in an imitation of the much-caricatured Roose- 
velt grin. "He was born with it, and he's got 
it in his heart. No matter what happens, that 
smile is there. I tell you, he's a happy man." 

A GOOD POLITICAL PKOPHET 

"So yon didn't vote for Parker?" 

Professor "Mike" looked at me comically, 
and if I had been a man I think he would have 
given me a playful tap on the ribs. 

"Ha! ha! Not Mike. Oh, I knew how that 
election was going to come out. I read a lot, 
you know. I get a great many papers from all 
over the country, and I knew that a powerful 
lot of Democrats were going to vote for Roose- 
velt. 

"And then on Election Day I ran into a party 
of friends of mine at the polls, all Irish, who 
had never voted anything but the Democratic 
ticket, and they said, 'Well, Mike, here goes a 
bunch of good votes for Ted.' 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 33 

* l The fact is that President Eoosevelt is more 
democratic than any Democrat. He's a demo- 
cratic Eepublican — that's what lie is. Why, 
he's got democracy in his blood. Look at his 
uncle, Eobert B., who 's a regular old-time sage, 
or whatchermaycallem, of Tammany Hall. Yes, 
I always say that the President is a democratic 
Eepublican." 

And Prof. "Mike" cocked his head sideways 
with a glance of simple satisfaction at having 
thus reconciled his hero-worship with his in- 
stinctive politics. 

"Has short-sightedness any bearing on box- 
ing ?" I asked. 

"Not if it ain't too bad. A boxer don't need 
good enough sight to see the color of the other 
man's eyes; all he needs is to be able to see 
the shifting motions of his arms and body" — 
with the pantomime of arms and torso which is 
second nature to Prof. "Mike." 

"And the President— he is short-sighted, 
isn't he?" 



34 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

"Yes, and he wants to get in close — wants to 
get right at you all the time." 

"Did he ever hurt yon?" 

"Did he ever hurt me? He gave me a black 
ear once!" 

We live and learn. I had never heard of a 
black ear before. Prof. "Mike" spoke of this 
peculiar decoration indulgently, not without a 
touch of pride. 

"Yes, I had been boxing with him one night, 
and brother Jerry was with me, and when we 
came away from the mansion" — I think this 
referred to the Governor's mansion at Albany 
— "I felt a sort of numbness and burning in my 
ear, just like frost-bite, and as it was a bitter 
cold, frosty night, I says to Jerry, 'By golly! 
Jerry, my ear's frost-bitten !' And I kep' on 
rubbing and rubbing it, and went to bed firmly 
believing it was a case of frost-bite. But next 
morning brother Jerry looked at my ear, and 
he laughed and said, 'It ain't a frost-bite you've 
got, Mike; it's a sting!' And, sure enough, my 
ear was all black." 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 35 

"And you hadn't felt it at the time Mr. 
Boosevelt struck the dreadful blow?" 

"No — that is, I did feel a slight sting, but I 
was so used to that that I didn't notice it." 

"Have you ever boxed with the President's 
boys?" 
J "Oh, my, yes!" 

"How do they box?" 

"Oh, they are splendid, manly little chaps, 
full of fight. They come right at you." 

"Do you think any of them will develop into 
as good a boxer as Mr. Boosevelt?" 

".Well, it's difficult to tell about boys. Judg- 
ing from present performances, they're all go- 
ing to turn out fine. Why, there's little Teddy, 
who ain't the strongest-looking in the family, 
he uses his hands just like his father — comes 
right in at you." 

I think that was all about the President and 
his boys. Ah, if I only had space and leisure 
to tell all the observation and humor and phi- 
losophy that was shed graciously upon me by 
Prof. "Mike" Donovan. 



36 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

But, at all events, please be consoled with the 
thought that the President of the United States 
will not be harmed by association with good 
Prof. "Mike." 



CHAPTER III 

I MEET YOUNG JOHN L. SULLIVAN 

It was in the fall of 1879, after my return 
from California, that I went to Boston to fill an 
engagement at the Howard Athenaeum Theater. 
One afternoon while I was sitting reading in 
my room a young man by the name of John 
Sullivan, known as the "Highland Strong 
Boy, ' ' was introduced to me by a friend. After 
we had talked for a while about fighting-men, 
and I had a chance to look him over, I said, 
"You are a rugged, strong young fellow." This 
seemed to please him, although he was very 
modest in his remarks. However, he seemed to 
have a grudge against Paddy Ryan, who was 
the most promising candidate for the champion- 
ship at that time. I asked him why, and he 

87 



38 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

said, "I happened to be in the theater once 
when Ryan and Joe Goss were boxing. Ryan 

i 

struck Goss when he was down, and he refused 
to continue. I offered to take Goss's place, but 
Ryan said, 'You go get a reputation first.' " 
Sullivan never forgot that remark. He said if 
he ever got a chance he believed he would make 
a good showing, and added, "I think I can hit 
as hard as any of them, and I know I am game, 
too." I rather liked the young fellow's man- 
ner of expressing himself, and said to Jim El- 
liott, who was in Boston with me at the time, 
"That young fellow Sullivan, in my opinion, 
will make a champion some day. He is a de- 
termined-looking fellow. He has asked me to 
give him some pointers, and I intend to box 
with him to-morrow up in my bedroom." El- 
liott, who was a very jealous fellow, said, "You 
get stuck on every man you see." He could 
not bear to hear any man spoken well of in his 
presence. I replied, "I think you are jealous." 
(I took great pleasure in teasing him on acr 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 39 

count of his evident jealousy.) Elliott retorted, 
' ■ What ! jealous of that mug V " Well, ' ' I said, 
" maybe all of us may be taking off our hats- to 
him some day." Elliott and I were arranging 
big boxing exhibitions, and Sullivan wanted me 
to put his name on the bill. He said he would 
box with anybody. I thought well of him, and 
asked Elliott to give him a show, but he refused. 
I told Sullivan that Elliott would not consent 
to having his name connected with our exhibi- 
tion. Here Sullivan made a remark that I have 
never forgotten. "Well, some day maybe they 
will all be glad to put my name on their bills.' ' 
A prediction which, as every one knows, came 
true. 

An abscess forming on my left elbow, I 
was unable to keep my engagement to box with 
Sullivan, as I had promised, and had to return 
home for treatment. When I thought I had re- 
covered again, I made an engagement to return 
to Boston to box at the Howard Athenaeum 
.Theater. I was matched to fight George Eook 



40 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

for the middle-weight championship with bare 
knuckles. The fight was to be held in Canada. 
In Boston I was to box Tom Drone nightly dur- 
ing the week. Tom was a very good local boxer. 
It was customary at that time to give the star 
a benefit on Friday night. I had to look around 
for some good man to box with me on that oc- 
casion, and I thought of Sullivan. I went to 
him and said, 6 ' Sullivan, you have told me that 
none of the big fellows will give you a chance 
to show what you can do. If you will box with 
me on Friday night and make a good showing 
I will take you to New York with me during my 
training for Eook, and after my fight with him 
is over I will match you with Paddy Eyan or 
any of the big fellows. " 

He jumped at the chance. 

Friday evening came and Sullivan was on 
hand. The news got about that there would be 
a fight worth seeing, and a big house was the 
consequence. 

When I saw him stripped I realized that Sul- 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 41 

livan was one of the best men physically that I 
had ever seen. Like all well-made men, he 
looked bigger with his clothes off than at any 
other time. 

He was, at that time, a big, raw-boned fellow 
and carried absolutely no superfluous flesh. He 
had a tremendous trunk and arms, and was very 
wide and flexible in the shoulders. His legs 
were lighter in proportion than the rest of his 
body. This accounted for the wonderful speed 
that he displayed. 

Before we went on I said to him, command- 
ingly, "Here, young fellow, you go in there and 
dress," pointing to a side dressing-room. He 
said, "All right, ' ' in his deep, gruff voice. Dick 
Fitzgerald, the manager of the theater, went 
into his room and said, "What are you going 
to do?" 

Sullivan replied, in his bass rumble, "Why, 
the best man wins." Fitzgerald then came into 
my dressing-room and told me. 

"He'll get what lots of other big fellows have 
got," I replied. 



42 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

We came on the stage, stripped for the event. 

I kept glaring at Sullivan, but he did not seem 
to be the least bit uneasy, as most young fel- 
lows would be under the circumstances. 

When time was called I sailed right in to in- 
timidate him at the outset if possible, for it is 
a well-known fact that boxers, like actors, often 
suffer from stage fright when first they face a 
big crowd. 

Sullivan, far from being intimidated, rushed 
at me like a panther. He forgot the fact 
that he was facing a champion before a 
crowded house, being inspired by his fighting 
instinct alone. This, I will admit, disconcerted 
me for a moment. I had a true fighting man 
before me. We mixed it for a time, but I soon 
felt that such a course would be a dangerous 
one for me to pursue, as he was quick as a cat 
and very strong. In fact he was the strongest 
man I had ever met, and I had boxed nearly 
every big man of reputation up to that time, 
Paddy Eyan included, and was considered the 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 43 

cleverest man in the ring. I suppose if I hadn't 
been my goose would have been cooked that 
night, for never in my life did I have to do such 
clever ducking and side-stepping. I proved my 
cleverness by avoiding a knock-out in the first 
round. After a hard round he slowed up, be- 
ing somewhat tired from the tremendously fast 
pace he had gone. Of course, most of his blows 
went wild of the mark, and you can rest as- 
sured that the mark in question was my head. 
His strength and speed tired me, and I fought 
the second round rather cautiously, but kept 
him busy by feinting and drawing his rush, each 
time side-stepping and trying to tire him out, 
which I succeeded in doing. We fought four 
rounds, and never before in all my life did I 
feel so exhausted and tired ; and, big and strong 
as Sullivan was, he seemed as tired as I. Of 
course, he wasted more strength than I by his 
great efforts. 

I broke the wrist bone of my right hand 
in the third round, and also got my thumb 



44 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

out of joint. These injuries bothered me a great 
deal during the rest of the bout. However, I 
still thought I had him, as I felt he was tiring 
rapidly. When the fourth round came I kept 
jabbing him in the face with my left. He used 
his right hand as a blacksmith would use a 
sledge-hammer pounding a piece of iron into 
shape. This blow afterward became famous. 
He hit me on top of the head several times, and 
his blows made me see stars of different colors. 
Only one who has had a like experience can ap- 
preciate my feelings at that moment — fighting 
a comparatively unknown man who had practi- 
cally nothing to lose, while I had my reputation 
at stake and was laboring under the handicap 
of a broken right hand. 

The fourth round ended with honors even, 
though I think I had slightly the better of it. 

As I lay in bed that night, nursing my sore 
hand, and thought it all over, I felt far from 
satisfied with myself, but finally concluded that 
I had just fought the coming champion of the 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 45 

prize-ring. My hand pained me greatly all 
night. In the morning I obtained relief by go- 
ing to a doctor and having it set in splints. 

On returning to my hotel it seemed to me that 
every Irishman who lived on Boston Highlands, 
the location of Sullivan's home, was there wait- 
ing for me. There were at least fifty in all. They 
plied me with all kinds of questions as to what 
I thought of the young fellow, and to all I re- 
plied that, in my mind, he was the coming cham- 
pion and a fine strong fellow. I never will for- 
get what one old man said: "I have known his 
father and mother for many years, and decent 
people they are, too. Johnny was always a 
strong gossoon, and I always thought he had 
the makings of a good man." The bar of the 
hotel was doing a big business. My shins be- 
came rather numb standing against it, when, 
to my great relief, Sullivan came in, and there- 
by afforded me a chance to slip away from 
his admirers and friends. 

This was the beginning of Sullivan's career. 



46 THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Others have claimed they brought him out, 
but the man who tries a man out and risks his 
reputation in so doing is entitled to the credit. 
I am sure Sullivan will vouch for everything I 
say in this matter. It was immediately after his 
bout with me that he became a great card. 

After this go with Sullivan I returned home 
and, although my hand was very sore, started 
to train for my fight with Book, thinking that 
it would be well in time for the fight, which was 
three months off. I was doomed to disappoint- 
ment, as it did not entirely mend for a year. The 
following year, 1881, I returned to Boston to 
box Sullivan again ; we met in a music hall and 
had three tough rounds. 

This bout caused such a bad feeling between 
us that we did not speak for three or four years. 



CHAPTER IV 

I BOX WITH SULLIVAN THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY 

In 1884, when John L. was making his won- 
derful tour of America from the Atlantic to the 
Pacific, knocking out every one who had the 
courage to meet him, I received a telegram from 
Al. Smith, his manager, asking me if I would 
join his combination, my duties to consist of 
boxing with John L. nightly. After satisfac- 
tory arrangements had been made I agreed. I 
journeyed to New* Orleans to meet him there. 
This was a friendly bout, which is hardly worth 
mentioning, other than to say we made a splen- 
did display and received much applause. I 
traveled with him all through the Southern 
States, drawing big houses everywhere. 

Every one has heard of John L.'s big-heart- 

47 



48 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

edness and generosity. At all times lie had his 
hands in his pockets, giving money away right 
and left, to the worthy and unworthy alike. Peo- 
ple even bought tickets for trains that he trav- 
eled on, in order to get a chance to strike him 
for money. Each one had a little tale prepared 
to awaken Sullivan's sympathies. I remem- 
ber an interesting case which occurred on our 
way from Montgomery, Alabama, to Savannah, 
Georgia. A thin, threadbare little man, shab- 
bily dressed, hailed me with: "My dear sir, I 
believe you are one of Mr. Sullivan's combina- 
tion ; as such, I wish you would do me a f avo-r. 
I am a Methodist minister. My town is a few 
miles up the road. Will you please introduce 
me to Mr. Sullivan?" 

I told him that I did not think Sullivan 
would see him; but, at his earnest solici- 
tation, I went into the smoking compart- 
ment of the Pullman car and told Sullivan how 
anxious the clergyman was to see him. At first 
he demurred, but I said, "John, this man is a 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 49 

gentleman, and has no other object than admir- 
ing curiosity." "Well, bring him in," growled 
John. I ushered him in and introduced him to 
Sullivan. 

The clergyman expressed his admiration 
unhesitatingly, saying, "Mr. Sullivan, I have 
read a great deal about you and of your 
many generous deeds, and I pray God will spare 
you many years to come. ' ' Sullivan asked him 
where his parish was located. He told him it 
was only a few miles on ahead. 

"I suppose," said Sullivan, "that you are 
having a hard time fighting against poverty in 
God's vineyard?" 

"Yes," replied the minister, "I am having a 
•hard time. I have started to build a small 
frame church, but have had to stop work on it 
for the want of money." 

"That's too bad," said John L. "Won't 
those psalm singers give up?" 

"Oh, yes," he replied, "all that they can af- 
ford; but, you see, they are all poor." 



50 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

" Where is Frank Moran?" said Sullivan. 
Moran was his financial secretary. I told him 
in the next car. "Tell him that I want him." 
I immediately sent for him. Frank came in and 
Sullivan said to him, "Give me one hundred 
dollars.' ' He did so, and John L. handed it to 
the minister, who at first refused to take it. 

"Oh, no, Mr. Sullivan !" he exclaimed. "I 
did not seek an introduction to you for the pur- 
pose of getting money.' 9 

He was telling the truth, and John L. knew it, 
and that made him more insistent that the min- 
ister should take the money, which he finally 
did, and left wishing Sullivan all kinds of luck 
with a "God bless you." 

It may seem strange to think that a, prize- 
fighter, who is of a class generally condemned 
by the clergy, should be the means of assisting 
in the building of a church in a little town in 
Alabama. 

It was apparent that the honestly expressed 
good wishes of the little clergyman had an ef- 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 51 

feet on John L. He said, after the minister had 
gone, that he never derived so much pleasure 
in giving away money. 

On arriving at Chattanooga, Tennessee, we 
went direct to the theater. As we were strip- 
ping to go on with the show, the Chief of Police 
came into the dressing-room and, addressing 
John, said, " Are you Sullivan ?" "I am," re- 
plied the latter. "Well, you will have to prove 
it. A man came here the other day and gave an 
exhibition, advertising himself as John L. Sul- 
livan." 

"Well, I am the only John L. Sullivan there 
is. I am not responsible for fakers who trade 
on my name." "You will have to show me," 
said the Chief. "How?" asked John, adding, 
"I don't know any one in this town." He was 
mad clear through at the Chief's domineering 
tone, and told him he would go on with the show 
in spite of him. I was afraid John L. would hit 
this fellow. This I knew would make no end of 



52 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

trouble, so I told Sullivan to go out before the 
audience and ask if there was any one there 
who knew him personally. 

He walked out on the stage and said, "Gen- 
tlemen, the Chief of Police is here and will not 
allow me to go on with the show until I prove 
that I am John L. Sullivan. It seems some 
faker has been here and represented himself as 
me. What can I do? I don't know a soul in 
this town. Can any of you identify me?" 

A voice in the crowd cried out, "We all know 
you, John. You're all right. Go on with the 
show. The Chief is only looking for cheap ad- 
vertising." This was followed by laughter and 
hisses. The Chief left without further inter- 
ference. 

We went on with the show and received a 
great deal of applause. The audience were much 
pleased with the Chief's discomfiture, and there 
were cries of "You're all right, Sullivan" from 
all over the house. 

We next went to Birmingham, Alabama. 



THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 53 

After our performance John L. was intro- 
duced to a couple of priests. He gave them 
each fifty dollars for their parishes. They in- 
formed John that they were holding a fair for 
the purpose of raising funds to build a larger 
church and asked him to come. He agreed, and 
they left in high spirits. 

When we had dressed we left the theater. 
Sullivan stopped at a cafe, but I went on to the 
hotel. 

About half an hour after, while I was smok- 
ing on the hotel veranda, the older of the 
priests, a fine-looking man with a rich Irish ac- 
cent, rushed up in great excitement. He spied 
me and came over, wringing his hands, "What 
shall I do? Oh, what shall I do?" he wailed. 
"IVe promised the people over at the fair that 
Sullivan would be there. It's now after eleven 
o'clock, and he's nowhere in sight. My reputa- 
tion will be ruined." 

I felt sorry for him, and in spite of the fact 
that I was tired I told him, if he would wait for 



54 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

me there, I thought I could produce Sullivan. 
He told me to do so would save his good name. 

I went at once to the cafe where John L. had 
stopped. There he was, surrounded by a crowd 
of admirers. I drew him aside and asked him 
if he intended to go to the fair. 

He did not want to go, and replied, "No. I 
gave the priests a hundred dollars. That 
ought to satisfy them." I explained to him 
that they had taken him at his word and that 
the people at the fair expected him, and added 
that I thought he ought to go. He finally con- 
sented, and we started up to the hotel to meet 
the priest. 

He acted as if I had done him the greatest 
possible service, and in great good humor 
started with us to the fair. 

It was very funny to see his satisfaction and 
high good humor; he was even swaggering a 
little as we entered the hall and, raising his 
hand, sang out, "Ladies and gentlemen," point- 
ing at John, "this is the great John L. Sulli- 
van. I want you to give him a cheer." 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 55 



Half an hour before lie had been on the verge 
of tears. Girls selling tickets for raffles and 
lotteries immediately surrounded us and begged 
John to take tickets. They besieged him on 
every side and the priest called to them, i ' Now, 
girls, don't impose on Mr. Sullivan." But the 
merry twinkle in his eye, far from deterring 
them, only seemed to urge them on. 

John L. handed out a ten here and a five 
there, until he had spent about one hundred and 
fifty dollars. He seemed to be having a fine 
time, too, joking with the girls and chaffing the 
young men. 

When we left, the priest escorted us to the 
door and, grasping Sullivan by the hand, said, 
"God bless you, John" — and in a lower voice 
— "more power to your arm." 

When we got outside I said, "Well, John, did 
you enjoy yourself?" 

"Yes, Mike," he answered, "but did you see 
the way that foxy priest told the girls 'not to 
impose on Mr. Sullivan M I don't think he 



56 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

meant a word of it. However, the money is for 
a good purpose. I'm glad he got it." 

Nothing of importance happened after this 
until we reached Memphis, Tennessee. 

During this tour Sullivan had had trouble 
with every one in the company except Frank 
Moran, his financial secretary, and myself. 
These disagreements all ended in one way. Sul- 
livan would knock the other man down, and I 
tell you it was no light thing to have Sullivan 
hit you with his bare knuckles. 

I, having known John, as I have told you, 
when he was a beginner at Boston, treated him 
more independently than any of the others. If 
he asked my opinion on any subject I always 
gave it frankly, and if it didn't suit him I let 
it go at that. If any other man in the combina- 
tion had talked to Sullivan the way I did it 
would have resulted in his getting a severe 
beating. 

I must say, however, that Sullivan always 
treated me well and paid more attention to my 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 57 

opinions than to those of any one else. Proba- 
bly because he knew I was not afraid of him 
and would, therefore, tell him the truth. 

I had been through the South before, and 
knew a great many people. Some of them were 
in hard circumstances, and I was, therefore, 
drawing on the treasury continually. One day 
in Memphis I wanted some money to give to an 
old fellow who had struck me for a loan and 
went to Moran for it as usual. 

After he had given it to me he said, "Mike, 
you and I are the only ones the Big Fellow 
hasn't licked. I guess your turn is next." 

"You think so, do you?" I said. "Well, not 
on your life. John will never hit me." 

He must have thought I was boasting, for he 
laughed heartily. He seemed sure I would get 
it in time. Late that night he and Sullivan had 
some words in the latter 's room, and the upshot 
of it was that John L. hit him between the eyes, 
knocking him down. 

Moran had thought that, on account of his 



58 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

high position in the combination, he could talk 
as he pleased to Sullivan and be exempt from 
punishment. I heard of the affair the following 
morning and went at once to Moran's room. I 
found him with his head bandaged and both eyes 
completely closed. I said to him, " Frank, old 
boy, I'm sorry for you, but I wasn't next, was 
I?" 

He laughed and said, "Mike, you are the only 
one left now. But you'll get it yet." I never 
did, though. 

That evening while I was sitting in the hotel 
corridor talking to some friends, I was ap- 
proached by a tall, slim young chap who had a 
long neck like a gander. 

"Are you Mike Donovan?" he asked. 

" Yes, " I said. ' < What do you want ? ' ' 

He told me he was the man who was to meet 
Sullivan that night, and said he would like to 
see him. I told him Sullivan made a practice of 
never seeing the man he was to meet until they 
were on the stage together. "You'll see him 
soon enough," I said. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 59 

The fellow was plainly scared and very nerv- 
ous. He asked me all kinds of questions, and 
finally asked, "Do you think he will knock me 
out?" 

I looked up at his long, red neck and replied, 
"Young fellow, if he hits you up there I'm 
afraid you will have to get a new neck." This 
seemed to make him angry and he left, saying 
he didn't know about that. I told him he would 
be wiser on that point after the bout. 

To tell the truth, I was always apprehensive 
of these bouts. I was afraid some one would be 
badly hurt by his head striking the floor after 
he had been knocked down, as Sullivan at that 
time could hit a terrific blow, especially with his 
right hand, and none of the men who went on 
with him, in the hope of getting the $1,000 he 
offered to any man who was on his feet after 
four rounds with him, was a match for him in 
any way. 

I had stopped a couple of nice young fellows 
from going on with him when they came to me 



60 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

for advice. Of course, Sullivan never knew any- 
thing about this. 

While we were stripping for the bouts that 
night the gander-necked fellow came in with a 
kind of swagger and, addressing John, said, 
"Are you Mr. Sullivan?" Without looking up, 
John growled, "Yes. What do you want?" 
The young fellow said he was the man who was 
to spar with him that night. John's only an- 
swer was a grunt, "Huh! you are?" 

The local man was even more nervous than 
when he had first spoken to me. He kept look- 
ing first at Sullivan and then at me, then blurted 
out, ' ' Are you going to knock me out, Mr. Sul- 
livan?" 

John L. jumped up and, looking him in the 
eye, said, "Young fellow, if you go on that 
stage with me I will knock your head off. You 
do the same to me, if you can. Now go in there 
and put your clothes on," pointing to a dress- 
ing-room. 

The youngster stripped, and we started for 







AFTtfc. DRESSY 

"T^e PRESENT 

SHOWED 

PfcOFEbiOR. DONOVAN 
3o^\E cMU JIT5U.... 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 61 

the stage, which was in the middle of the hall. 

Time was called, and Sullivan walked up to 
the scratch, feinted with his left and swung his 
right on the other's gander-like neck. He 
crashed forward, landing on the side of his 
head. 

I was frightened. The young fellow had 
fallen so hard I was afraid he had fractured 
his skull. 

Sullivan was frightened, too, as he threw off 
his gloves and picked the man up in his arms, 
which he could easily do, as the other only 
weighed about 160 pounds, and carried him to 
a chair, where he threw a bucket of water over 
him. I grabbed the bucket and started for the 
dressing-room for more water. As I passed 
through the crowd I heard remarks such as 
these on all sides: "The big brute — he ought 

to be lynched ! ' ' " Kill the d d brute ! ' ' and 

others of a similar character. When I got back 
to the stage I whispered to Sullivan that I 
feared there might be trouble. He picked the 



62 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 



young fellow up again and carried him to the 
dressing-room, where after a few minutes he 
revived. We then went back to the stage to fin- 
ish our exhibition. Sullivan's treatment of his 
opponent after he had knocked him out caught 
the crowd and he was cheered to the echo. 

[When we returned to the dressing-room 
" gander-neck " had entirely recovered. " Young 
fellow,' ' said Sullivan, "I can't let any one take 
the thousand I hang up, and I cannot afford to 
lose my reputation, so I have to put fellows like 
you out as quickly as I can, but you are a game 
fellow." And, turning to his secretary, said, 
"Give him fifty dollars, Jake." 

Sullivan was right when he said this man 
was game. Any man is game who goes on 
with a thing which he is physically afraid to 
tackle. 



_ 



CHAPTER V 

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BRAWNY SCOT 

Our next stop was Hot Springs, Arkansas, 
where we arrived about six in the evening. We 
went direct to the hotel and from there to the 
theater. 

My dressing-room was on the opposite side 
of the stage from Sullivan, and as I walked out, 
after having put on my boxing-clothes, I saw 
a great, raw-boned man fully six feet four in 
height, with a pair of shoulders large enough 
to block a door. 

"Is Mustur-r-r Soolivan here?" he asked in 
a Scotch burr you could have cut with a knife. 

"Not yet," I replied. "What do you want 
to see him about?" 
, " w Weel," he said, "I'm the mon that's to 

63 



64 THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

meet him the nicht. I thocht I'd like to see 
him." 

I told him to go into my room and sit down 
and I would try to find Sullivan. I went across 
the stage to Sullivan's dressing-room and told 
him this fellow was the biggest and strongest- 
looking man I'd ever seen. 

In the middle of my description John said, 
with a grin: "Oh, the bigger they are, the 
harder they fall. Take those gloves and get him 
ready. I want to get through. " 

I went back to the other room and told the 
Scotchman to strip. He pulled off his shirt and 
displayed a magnificent pair of arms and 
shoulders. Then, tying his suspenders round 
his waist for a belt, said that he was ready. 
His hands were so big that I thought I would 
have to cut the gloves to get them on. They 
were like a pair of hams. I tried to find a knife, 
but couldn't do so. After a lot of tugging and 
pulling, I finally got them on and told him to 
follow me, which he did as if he had been a 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 65 

small boy. We went upstairs to the stage, and 
had hardly gotten to the wings when Sullivan 
ran up to the big fellow and, pushing him out on 
the stage, said, i i Get over to that corner. ' ' 

The Scotchman was so big he actually had to 
look down at Sullivan. He weighed at least two 
hundred and fifty pounds and was in excellent 
condition. He didn't have one ounce of super- 
fluous flesh on his body. When time was called, 
and they advanced to the scratch, the contrast 
between the two men was even more marked. 
Sullivan looked like a boy, compared to this fel- 
low. 

As they put their hands up, the big fellow 
rushed. I really think he believed he could beat 
Sullivan. John L. hit his left arm a chop, in 
order to break down his guard, and then 
whipped his right to the jaw. The Scotchman 
fell like a log near the back scene. As I have 
said, he was remarkably strong, and he showed 
his stamina and pluck by struggling to his feet 
before he was counted out. He stood facing the 



66 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

drop scene, with his hands resting on it for sup- 
port, his head drooping forward. John L. 
walked over and turned him around, for he 
would never hit a man whose back was turned. 
Catching him by the arm he walked the other 
back to the middle of the stage. The big fellow; 
squared off to fight again. 

Sullivan again swung his right to the jaw, 
although not with as much force as before, and 
the Scotchman fell forward in a heap — insen- 
sible. 

John, as usual, pulled off his gloves and tried 
to pick him up. He couldn't make it, however, 
and four or five of us had to help him. There 
were a great many people in Hot Springs who 
thought Sullivan would have his hands full 
beating this fellow, and the quick way he dis- 
posed of him made a great impression. 

The Scotchman was a very powerful man, but 
was too slow ever to have made a fighter. 

The next day John and I were going down 
to the springs to take a bath, when I was ap- 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 67 

proached by two fellows who said they were 
hard up, and asked me to help them out. One 
of them was a stranger, but the other I knew 
slightly. I gave each of them a dollar and 
passed on. When I returned to the hotel and 
went into Sullivan's room he asked me who the 
fellows that I had been talking to were. Ttold 
him I had known one of them in New Orleans 
and that the other one was a stranger to me. 

" You have more 'bum' friends than any man 
I know of," said Sullivan. 

"John," I replied, "you should not talk like 
that. You are only a young man yet. ' ' He was 
twenty-six then. "One of those poor fellows 
was an alderman in New Orleans 'way back in 
the 50 's. Now he is a dissipated, broken-down 
old man. You will meet fellows who are wear- 
ing diamonds and spending money now who, in 
ten or twelve years, will be stopping you in the 
street and asking for a loan." 

There were a couple of other men in the room 
when this conversation took place, and they 
backed me up in what I said. 



68 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

A few minutes later we went to the station, 
and as w r e got to our seats in the car a crowd 
of poor fellows came in and began telling their 
tales of woe to John. He was handing them 
each a five or ten dollar bill. I spied my friend 
the alderman on the back platform, and went 
out and told him what was going on, advising 
him to go in and strike John. 

Sullivan gave him a ten-dollar bill, and as 
more were coming, probably the same crowd on 
a second trip, he called out, "Lock that door!" 
Which was done. I think, in all, he gave away 
a couple of hundred dollars. As the train pulled 
out I turned to him and said, "John, you cer- 
tainly have lots of 'bum' friends. " He said, 
"Well, I guess you're right, Mike." "I know 
I am right, John," I replied. "I tipped my 
'bum' friends off, and they got ten apiece from 
you." He laughed and said the joke was on 
him. 

Our next stop of any importance was St. 
Louis. On arriving there we found that Buf- 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 69 

f alo Bill was in town with his Wild West show. 
He invited us to see the performance, and that 
afternoon we went out to the fair grounds and 
were ushered into seats in the judges' stand. 
We found that General Sherman, his daughter 
and other prominent people had already ar- 
rived. 

Bill made his customary speech before the 
caravan started, and then invited John L. and 
the rest of us to occupy the old Deadwood 
coach. We started round the track lickity-split, 
and about half-way round the Indians, led by 
their chief, Rocky Bear, attacked us. Their 
faces were daubed with red, green and white 
paint, and distorted with fierce grimaces. They 
emitted shrieks and yells at every jump. Their 
repeating rifles were cracking away in our 
faces. In spite of the fact that I knew I was 
perfectly safe, their fierce yells and bloodthirsty 
actions were so realistic that I could feel little 
chills chasing themselves up and down my back. 

One of the other men in the coach was named 



70 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Frank Tucker, a real "bad man," with eight 
notches on his gun. 

As the Indians overtook us, one big buck rode 
up close and shot right into the coach. Tucker 
turned to me and said, very quietly, "I'm going 
to kill that Indian some day." 

I thought he was joking, and laughed. 

Tucker showed me his left hand, which was 
bandaged heavily. He told me the Indian had 
shot a gun-wad into his hand a couple of days 
before, and added, "You bet that Indian will 
never see the plains again, partner. ' ' 

Buffalo Bill heard of this threat a short time 
afterward and sent Tucker back to his home in 
North Platte, for he knew he would be sure to 
kill the Indian sooner or later. 

Buffalo Bill gave us a barbecue, and we had 
lots of meat, and onions, and coffee galore. Gen- 
eral Sherman was there, and ate the meat out 
of his fingers, like everybody else, and he was 
as much of a boy as any of us. Of course I 
knew the General, as I had marched from At- 




\NM*T€t> TO 

LENO THE" 
PRE^DEHT 




^ ■ ffr^rv 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 71 

lanta to the sea with him. He told me there he 
was always glad to meet one of his boys. 

Buffalo Bill drove us into town in a four-in- 
hand, Sullivan and himself sitting on the front 
seat. They received an ovation all along the 
route. Everybody was cracking jokes, and we 
had a very merry time. We went to the hotel 
and had dinner, and all ate heartily. Sullivan 
meant to meet a man there by the name of Zin- 
dell. However, that did not prevent his dining 
well. 

We then went to the People's Theater to pre- 
pare for the show. At 8 : 15 Tom Allen, the ex- 
champion of America, appeared on the stage 
with a handsome young fellow, light-haired, 
blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, who weighed about 
180 pounds. "Ladies and gentlemen," said Al- 
len in his coarse, husky voice, "I brought Zin- 
dell here to meet John L. Sullivan. Sullivan 
has been going all around this country making 
bluffs, and I brought Mr. Zindell here to meet 
him.'* Of course Allec made quite a hit, and 



72 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

was cheered by the audience. Now, let it be 
understood right here that Tom Allen knew the 
Chief of Police, Larry Horrigan, whom I had 
known in the late 60 's when he was a sergeant, 
was there, and had already told Sullivan he 
would not allow him to knock any man out. 
Knowing Sullivan could not put his man out, 
Allen was making a bluff. It made me mad to 
see Zindell swaggering around when he knew 
Sullivan wouldn't be allowed to put him out. I 
said to Chief Horrigan, "Let John L. knock 
that fellow out. It will take some of the conceit 
out of him." "No," he said, "I cannot do it, 
Mike. I would like to see John L. put him out 
myself; but, as Chief of Police, I cannot allow 
it." 

I went downstairs to the dressing-room and 
repeated to John L. the speech Allen had made, 
and told him how he referred to him as a 
bluffer. 

"Ah," he said, "they won't believe what that 
old stoker says. Everybody knows I am on the 
level." 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 73 

"Well," said I, "you will have to go up and 
refute what Allen has said, as his words have 
made a great impression on the audience." 

He shook his head and said in disgust, "I 
will not notice it." 

"Well, if you don't you will leave a bad im- 
pression behind you in this city. Can't you 
hear the people calling, ' Sullivan! Sullivan!'? 
You owe them an explanation." 

I persuaded him, and he went up on the stage 
and addressed the audience as follows : 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have a standing of- 
fer of one thousand dollars, put up for any man 
who can stay four rounds with me. I have trav- 
eled from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back, 
and no man has stayed even one round as yet. 
There have been scores who have tried it. I 
would be glad of the opportunity to treat you to 
a knock-out to-night, but the Chief of Police has 
forbidden it. Now, that is the situation. He is 
here now on the stage, so I will leave it to this 
audience who is the bigger bluffer— the man 



74 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

who lias just made the speech to you, or myself. 
He knows the Chief will not allow me to knock 
his man out." 

John L. received a tremendous cheer, and Al- 
len was hissed. 

"We went on and gave the regular show with 
our combination as usual. After the show we 
went different ways — I with my friends and 
Sullivan with his — and we did not meet until 
very late that night at the hotel. I arrived 
there about twelve o'clock, and Frank Moran 
and myself and our old friend Tucker went up 
to the bar to have a drink, when in came Zin- 
dell and a friend, and we invited them to join 
us. Zindell was the first to refer to the incident 
of the evening. He said that he was not afraid 
to meet Sullivan. 

"That may be all true, young man," I said. 
"Nobody said you were afraid; but let me tell 
you frankly you would not last as long as it 
takes me to tell it in front of him." 

"How do you know?" he asked. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 75 

"I could tell by looking at you." 

"How so?" 

"Because you are not a fighting man!" 

"You never seen me fight," he replied. 

The argument was getting pretty hot now. 

"I would not have to see you fight to know 
that you aren't a fighter. You have not a sin- 
gle indication in your face to show that you are 
one." 

He began to get nervous and his voice trem- 
bled. 

"That's a pretty bold thing to say," he cried. 

"Yes, and I am bold enough to say it," I an- 
swered. 

I thought I was in for a scrap, f and I was in- 
clined to have one. 

He cooled down, and I said to him, "I told 
you that you were no fighter." 

His excuse was, he did not fight in barrooms. 

I said, "Neither do I, but I am not particular 
when the occasion requires it." 

He took water, and that ended the argument. 



76 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

We had some more drinks, and after a few 
minutes I saw John L. coming through the cor- 
ridor. I walked toward him and said, " John" 
(understand, he had never seen Zindell), "that 
fellow that Allen had to meet you is here at the 
bar. Don't say anything to him, as I don't be- 
lieve it is his fault. It is best to let the thing 
pass off now." 

When he came up to the bar I introduced him 
to Zindell, and he said, "Glad to meet you, 
young fellow." 

Zindell could not give up the subject, and 
said, "Mr. Sullivan, it was not my fault I did 
not meet you to-night." 

Sullivan replied, in a rough, surly voice, "It 
was not my fault I did not knock you out." And 
he meant it, too. 
. "Well," he said, "I guess you can lick me." 

Sullivan said, "No guess about it. You 
would go the way others went, as sure as you 
live. That's no bluff, either, understand? And 
now don't say any more about it." 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 77 

Zindell shook like a man with the fever, and 
quit then and there when he found he was in 
for a licking if he said more. The man who was 
with Zindell had known my brother Jerry in the 
day of his prime and said to me in a whisper, 
"If Sullivan hits this fellow and knocks him 
out I will kill him." He was assuming on the 
acquaintance of my brother that I would be his 
friend instead of Sullivan's. 

I turned on him and said: "If you put your 
hand near your hip pocket I will knock the top 
of your head off. ' * 

This was all said in a low voice, so as not to 
attract Sullivan's attention. If he had heard 
it there would have been trouble sure. I felt 
rather safe with nothing but my hands, because 
I knew my friend Tucker had his masked bat- 
tery planted all the time. 

After a couple more drinks John L. started 
for the south door of the hotel. It was then 
about two o 'clock in the morning. Moran called 
my attention to it and said, "There goes John. 
Go after him." 



78 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I did, and Tucker followed me. I knew John 
was up to some mischief and said to Tucker, "I 
think he is going to Allen's to get even for those 
remarks he made last evening. We won't at- 
tract his attention until we see him turning 
down the street to Allen's." 

He walked up Fifth Street and passed Mar- 
ket Street. We let him go for a little way, and 
then I hailed him, for I knew he was making a 
mistake. He turned around and said, "What 
are you following me for!" 

I walked up to him and said, "I know that 
you are going to Allen's place to lick him, and 
I am following you to keep you out of trouble." 

He said, "I will make him apologize or knock 
his head off before I go to bed this morning." 

I said, "John, Allen is too old a man for you 
to beat. He is an old has-been, and the only 
thing he can do now is to talk. He is beneath 
your notice." 

He paid no attention, other than to ask: 
"Where is his place?" He was still determined 
to go there. 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 79 

"He lives on Market Street," I replied; "but, 
look here, John, you don't want to go there and 
start a racket. He has got a lot of hangers-on 
and cut-throats there. We will all get into se- 
rious trouble, and you will be sorry for it after- 
ward." 

A stitch in time saves nine, and back to the 
hotel we went. John still wanted to go on; so 
did Tucker, who said, "I have a pair of guns 
here, and I won't leave a live man in the place." 

"That's all right, Tucker," I said, "but it 
don't pay." I finally persuaded them to drop 
the matter; but I did not feel easy until I saw 
John in bed, fearing he might get up and sneak 
out again, but Tucker stayed with him and 
promised me that he would not let him out. 
Then I went to my room and went to bed. 

The next morning we left St. Louis. 



CHAPTER VI 

BURKE, OF SAGINAW, A GOOD MAN 

One feature of our show was a three-round 
exhibition between Sullivan and myself. These 
affairs are always rehearsed beforehand, and 
are known as " brother acts." 

We were just starting the second round at 
Saginaw, Michigan, when we were startled by 
hearing a voice from a box ten or twelve feet 

above the stage call out, "It's a d d shame 

to see that big fellow slugging a little man." 
The "little man" meant me, as I then weighed 
only about one hundred and forty-eight pounds. 

Sullivan stopped sparring and, looking up 
over his shoulder, growled out to the occupant 
of the box, "You come down." 

As Sullivan turned I hit him a stiff punch 

80 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 81 

on the head. He paid no attention to it. This 
brought a great laugh from the audience. 

Crash came a pair of heavy, raw-hide boots 
on to the stage. The man who wore them had 
leaped from his box and stood confronting 
John L. 

I had slipped off my gloves when I saw what 
had happened. The stranger tore off his coat 
and rushed toward Sullivan, his hands in a 
fighting position. I caught him by the arm and 
pulled my gloves on his hands, saying, as I did 
so, "You jumped down here looking for some- 
thing. Now you '11 get it. ' ' 

He and Sullivan sparred for a moment, the 
newcomer's heavy boots beating a tattoo on the 
stage floor as he sprang in and out. Sullivan 
feinted with his left, and when the stranger's 
hand went up to guard he crashed his right 
against the jaw. 

It was a knock-out. 

After disposing of a man Sullivan always 
picked him up and started to take care of him. 



82 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

This was done in order to dispel any unpleasant 
effect of the knock-out in the minds of the spec- 
tators. He followed his usual custom in this 
case. 

After we had bathed the stranger's head he 
revived a bit and staggered to his feet and 
stood swaying, again assuming an attitude of 
defense. Sullivan put him back in the chair. 
He put his hand to the back of his neck and 
spoke for the first time. 

"Who hit me here?" he demanded. 

"I did, old man," said Sullivan. 

"Who are you?" 

John L. grinned and replied, "I'm Sullivan." 

The other smiled faintly. "Oh, I remember 
now," he said, and shortly after left the theater. 

I then resumed the gloves and John L. and 
I finished our set-to. 

That night while we were standing at the 
hotel bar, the stranger, whose name I learned 
was Burke, came in. He walked straight over 
to John L. * i Sullivan, ' ' he said, ' ' give me your 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 83 

hand. You are a good man. I've licked every 
man in these parts. You are the first that ever 
knocked me down." 

The champion's hand met his half-way. 
"Have a drink," growled Sullivan. 

If this rough lumberman had had the benefit 
of Sullivan's training, there is no doubt in my 
mind he would have made his mark in the ring. 

There are many young fellows such as he 
throughout the country who would, if properly 
taught, make as good fighters as any that have 
appeared before the public. 

From Saginaw we went to Detroit, where we 
showed for two nights. After arriving at the 
hotel, among the friends and admirers who 
called to see John L. was Colonel McLaughlin, 
who was once collar-and-elbow wrestling cham- 
pion of the world. He sent up his card, and 
John L. told them to show him up. I had never 
seen this man, and was somewhat curious to 
have a look at him. In came a great big, broad- 
shouldered man with light hair and very blue 



84 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

eyes; he wore a long, flowing mustache. He 
was a splendid figure and a handsome man. 
Sullivan said that he was glad to see 
him, and he told John he also was glad to 
see him, but Sullivan did not introduce me. He 
sometimes forgot that it was necessary to intro- 
duce those who were with him. I did not mind 
this, however, as I knew it was only an over- 
sight. 

They were talking about John's profitable 
tour and of the many men that he had done 
away with. I did not say a word, as I was 
studying Mr. McLaughlin and could see that he 
was a very pompous sort of chap and wanted 
to make a big impression on people as to what 
a big man he was, both in bulk and intellect. I 
did not like his style in the least. 

All at once he stuck out his chest, raised his 
head in the air and said, " John, why don't you 
learn how to wrestle?" 

"Oh," said John, "I can wrestle well enough 
to throw a sucker," And then he added that 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 85 

wrestling was barred under the Marquis of 
Queensbury rules. 

"Well," said the Colonel, "suppose that a 
robber or a highwayman should tackle you some 
night. If you knew how to wrestle well, you 
could break his neck and throw him into an 
alley." 

I saw that my impression of McLaughlin was 
correct, and that he wanted to appear as a 
bigger man than Sullivan himself. This made 
me mad and I said, "You seem to forget, Mr. 
McLaughlin, that John might be doing some- 
thing about that time himself." 

He looked at me, with his head still raised, 
as much as to say: "You impudent fellow. Who 
are you that enters this conversation?" and 
then said, with a shake of the head, "Well, what 
would he do?" — emphasizing the well. 

I answered that Sullivan would knock the 
man out, and there was not a wrestler living 
that he could not knock out. s And that that was 
what he would and could do if occasion de- 
manded. 



86 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOWi 

This rather knocked the conceit out of Mc- 
Laughlin, and he left much offended. I told 
Sullivan he ought not to have let him go with- 
out a call-down, but John was always good- 
natured, and passed the matter off lightly. 

Shortly after taking the train for Toledo, 
Ohio, and as we were all comfortably seated, a 
big, broad-shouldered mulatto took a seat beside 
me. I took no particular notice of him, except 
that his left arm was in a sling. 

Frank Moran sat opposite me, as the seats 
were opened up facing each other. I saw 
Moran eying my neighbor very keenly, and 
once in a while making eyes at me, but I could 
not understand what he meant by it until finally 
he leaned over and whispered to me, "Mike, 
that is Thompson." Frank then got into con- 
versation with him, which astonished me some- 
what, as he did not like negroes as a rule. Sud- 
denly Frank said, ' * Oh, you are Mervin Thomp- 
son, are you?" 

As soon as I heard the name I whispered, 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 87 

" Frank, keep it quiet, for if the Big Fellow 
finds out Thompson is here there will be a ter- 
rible row." Frank said to Thompson, "You 
have been challenging John L. during his ab- 
sence, and he is dead sore on you and Duncan 
Eoss [the broadswordsman] , and if he sees you 
now you will get what is coming to you." 

I again cautioned Frank to speak in a lower 
tone. John L. sat in the seat at Frank's back, 
just ahead of us, and I was afraid that he would 
hear and learn Thompson was there. Frank was 
rather inclined to have John L. hear, however. 
Thompson made all manner of excuses, but 
Frank would not let up. Finally Sullivan heard 
the name of Thompson mentioned by Moran, 
and he turned around in his seat and looked 
sharply at Thompson for a minute or two, then 
called out, "Say, are you Mervin Thompson?" 
"Yes, Mr. Sullivan," he replied. 

John L. sat up, leaning over the seat, and 
said, "Thompson, if you did not have your arm 
in a sling I would make you lay down like a 
yellow dog." 



88 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW - 

By this time the aisle of the car was full 
of people, expecting to see a fight. Poor Thomp- 
son was scared almost to death. 

I said : ' * John, he has acknowledged that you 
can lick him and that Duncan Boss is the man 
responsible. The poor fellow has apologized in 
every way. If you say much more to him the 
people will think that you are imposing on him 
because he has only one arm." 

John L. then turned around and let Thomp- 
son alone. If a fight had started the passengers 
would have stampeded, and there might have 
been a dreadful loss of life caused by the jam 
on the two platforms that would have caused 
many to topple off the train, which was going 
at least fifty miles an hour. 

I felt rather sore at Moran for not keeping 
quiet. Frank was a city fellow and was fond 
of kidding, and liked to see a scrap. Nothing 
would do John L. but that Thompson be his 
guest, and stop over one night with him. 

Al. Smith, John L.'s manager at that time, 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 89 

boarded the train at Buffalo. It often happened 
that we all acted like bad boys who took ad- 
vantage of the schoolmaster's absence, and it 
was curious to see how humble John L. would 
be when Al. would read him a lecture. He acted 
more like a boy who was going to get a beating 
for playing hookey than anything else. He al- 
ways had the same excuse: "I can't help it, Al. 
Everybody is running after me with 'John, 
have a drink' here and 'John, have a drink' 
there. I don't like to offend any one by refus- 
ing. So how can I help it ? " 

Al. had a habit of repeating the word "see." 
"See, see," he would say, "this won't do, this 
won't do — see, see — you're ruining your health, 
my boy — see, see — you are ruining your health. 
Now don't you see I'm right?" 

"Yes," John L. would say, and when Al. was 
through with John his face would brighten up 
and one would think he would never do wrong 
again. All this time I would be trembling in my 
shoes, knowing that my turn would come next. 



90 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I'd try the same excuse, and there was a good 
deal of truth in it, but it wouldn't go with Al. 
He'd say to me, "Mike, this won't do — see?" 
He'd let me off with a lecture, but the promise 
made lasted only while Al. was in close prox- 
imity, and I might say the same for John L. 

Now let me introduce the reader to AL Smith. 
Many of this generation don't know of him; 
many have never even heard of him. Away 
back in the early 60 's he went into the Civil War 
with an Ohio regiment and fought bravely to 
the close. He was about twenty-four then. He 
was a big man — six feet two inches in height. 
After the war he drifted into St. Louis. At that 
time men did not fight so much through the pa- 
pers as they do nowadays. Whenever a likely- 
looking fellow drifted into one of those river 
cities he had to fight to be recognized. In six 
weeks there wasn't a rough-and-tumble scrap- 
per in St. Louis that AL hadn't licked. Two of 
them I know — Pat Conley and Jake Powell, both 
six-footers and terrible men. They fought like 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 91 

savage bulldogs. Al. nearly killed Conley, who 
did not recover for some weeks. Pat was a ter- 
rible fighter, but as kind-hearted as a child. 
There were many more, but too numerous to 
mention. Now, readers, this is Al. Smith. Do 
you wonder why we were all so meek? I ought 
to say here that it was not on account of Al.'s 
physical prowess that Sullivan and I obeyed 
him, but because we respected his judgment and 
knew what he said was best for us. 

Dear old Al. is still living, a hale old man, 
at the Gilsey House, where he has stayed for 
many years. I drop in to see him occasionally, 
and we have a chat and laugh about old times. I 
often say, "By George! Al., we were more 
scared of you than we would be of a regiment 
of ordinary men — John L., too, as well as the 
rest of us." 

The morning we arrived in New York Al. 
slipped two one-hundred-dollar bills in my 
hand, saying, i i I give you this, son, for being a 
good boy these last two weeks." The gift was 



92 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

a godsend, as I did not have five dollars in my 
pockets. I had received a good salary; but, as I 
have said before, I met so many I knew who 
were down and out, and between giving up to 
them and spending money for drink I could not 
keep a dollar. John Ij., of course, could give 
away more lavishly than I. After this gift Al. 
and I sat on the same seat and began to talk 
about John L. I said, "Al., you know that 
Charley Mitchell is in New York now, waiting 
for Sullivan. Take my advice and don't make 
a match for several weeks. I could whip John 
L. myself this morning. He is in horrible con- 
dition. He is more fit for a sanitarium than a 
prize-ring. Don't match him. Don't, for God's 
sake, match him. Mitchell knows that he is in 
this condition, as there are people all over this 
country who keep him posted. Now, I know 
what I am talking about." AL listened atten- 
tively to me and meant to take my advice, but 
John L. could not keep his temper when he met 
Mitchell an hour later in the Ashland House. 
The thing happened just to suit Mitchell. 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 93 

As they met, Mitchell, extending his hand, 
walked toward John L., saying, " Hello, John! 
How do you do? I'm glad to see you." John 
L. replied, "I'll shake hands with you after I 
have licked you for what you said during my 
absence. ' ' 

"Oh, you will, will you?" said Charley. 

One word brought on another, and if it hadn't 
been for the interference of the people present 
there would have been a fight then and there. 

The match was made, and it was arranged 
that they should meet in Madison Square Gar- 
den three weeks later. 

Now I will show how Billy Madden and 
Mitchell hoodwinked so clever a man as Al. 
Smith. Al. did not understand the mean, low 
trick they played on him until it was all over. 
Both men went into training, and about four 
days before the bout Madden telegraphed to Al. 
that Mitchell had malaria and could not fight, 
and they called the fight off. Al. immediately 
telegraphed to Sullivan at Boston that the fight 
was off. 



94 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

John L. stopped training and began celebrat- 
ing at his own place at Boston with a crowd of 
friends. This fact was published all over the 
country in the newspapers. At once Madden 
made arrangements to have the fight go on as 
per schedule, knowing that John could not 
straighten up in time to do his best. Al. then 
telegraphed to John L. to come on to New York, 
saying that all that he needed was a shave and a 
shampoo to beat Mitchell ; but I knew better and 
told Al. that it was a trick of Madden 's and 
Mitchell's to throw him off his guard and get 
John when he was out of condition. 

However, Al. Smith allowed Sullivan to come 
to New York. When he arrived I went to the 
hotel to have a look at him, as I was a bit nerv- 
ous, knowing that Mitchell, although only a 
middleweight, was a good man and a hard 
puncher, and that it would take an exceptionally 
good big man to beat him. 

I have said at times uncomplimentary things 
about Charley Mitchell, but I have never at any 
time said lie ;vras not a good fighter. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 95 

After looking John over, and seeing his ter- 
rible condition, I said to him, "You ought to 
have known Madden was tricking you when he 
sent Al. that message saying Mitchell was sick, 
and that it was only intended to throw you off 
your guard.' ' 

John braced up a bit and said: "I guess 
you're right, Mike, but I can put him away for 
good in one punch." 

"I hope so, John," I said, "but don't forget 
he's a clever fellow, and it will be hard for you 
to hit that punch in the condition you are in 
now." Before I left I said: "John, for God's 
sake, go in with a clear head, anyway. Don't 
take another drink before the fight." "When I 
left him he seemed to feel better, but I was 
very skeptical of the result. 

The fight was scheduled for ten o'clock that 
night. That afternoon Sullivan had a severe 
vomiting spell and immediately after developed 
a fever. Notwithstanding this fact, he went to 
the Garden. I saw him in his dressing-room. 



96 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

He was plainly disheartened. He was leaning 
forward, his head in his hands, and seemed in 
great distress. The doctor who was attending 
him told me Sullivan had a fever and was in 
bad shape. 

I left the dressing-room feeling very bad. 
I didn't want to see Sullivan beaten, but I knew 
if he went into the ring with Mitchell that night 
it surely would happen. I couldn't figure out 
any way to prevent it. Handsome Dan Mur- 
phy, of Boston, one of John L.'s warmest 
friends, came rushing up to me in great excite- 
ment, crying, "Mike, for God's sake, go into 
the dressing-room and keep the Big Fellow 
from going on. He must not try to fight to- 
night. " 

I went back into John's dressing-room. Al. 
Smith was there, telling him to take off his 
clothes and put on his fighting togs, saying that 
Mitchell was ready. 

I said: "My Lord! AL, you don't want to see 
John licked, do your 1 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 97 

"No, of course not," lie replied. "Look at 
the house — see the thousands of people." 

4 ' Well, he will not fight, ' ' I declared. " He is 
not fit. A little boy could push him over this 
minute. // he gets into that ring to-night 
Charley Mitchell will beat him as sure as he y s 
a foot high." 

John was moaning softly at that time. Al. 
left and went into the adjoining dressing-room 
where Mitchell and Madden were. He told them 
Sullivan was sick and could not fight. 
| Mitchell hesitated a moment ; then said : ' i Oh, 
;well, we can go and have a little friendly 'spar,' 
y'know." 

j I said, "Not on your life, Mitchell. John L. 
will not be allowed to box with you to-night in 
the condition he is in." 

"Ah! y'know, I'm sick, too." 
"Yes, you are," I said. "You look it." 
Mitchell was never in better condition in his 
life. His eyes were clear, an invariable sign of 
good condition ; his flesh was firm and he looked 
better in every way than I had ever seen him. \ 



98 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

After a few moments ' more conversation Al. 
said to Madden and Mitchell, " Let's give Burke 
and McCaffrey five hundred dollars to box for 
the audience. " Mitchell did not understand 
and said, emphatically, "I cawn't box Burke or 
McCaffrey here to-night/ ' "I did not say 
that, ' ' said AL " I said McCaffrey and Burke. ' ' 
Mitchell had thought he meant for him to box 
McCaffrey or Burke. Then Al. continued: 
" John is sick and can't box, so we must have 
somebody to go on."- Mitchell said again, 
" John L. and I can have a nice, friendly 'spar,' 
y'know." 

I repeated my declaration, and Al. stood by 
me. 

iWe then went back to John's dressing-room, 
and Smith asked him to go on the stage and 
make an excuse to the audience. Poor Sullivan 
was half -stupefied and said, thickly: "Yes, I 
will, for you, Al. ' ' That was against my judg- 
ment. I told Sullivan to go back to the hotel. 
I knew he was making a mistake. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 99 

Of course, nobody can blame A.l. Smith for 
squaring himself with the crowd, but I must tell 
the truth and say that he was more responsible 
for that fizzle than John L., as he should not 
have allowed Madden and Mitchell to fool him. 
Al. is an open-and-above-board man, and natu- 
rally expected square dealing from Madden and 
Mitchell, but, like most men of his caliber, he 
could be deceived easily. He was never suspi- 
cious of any one. 

John L. got on the stage to make his apology. 
He was a pitiful spectacle, hanging on to the 
ropes with his head down. He certainly looked 
ill. He raised his hand and said, "Gentlemen, 
I'm dead sick. I can't fight to-night.' ' 

No one but myself can possibly realize what 
an effort it cost John L. Sullivan to say the 
words "I can't fight to-night." 

As John left the ring he was hooted and 
jeered at by the same people who had cheered 
his very appearance a few months before. 

This affair nearly broke John's heart; for, 



100 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

like all idols of the public, he was very jealous 
of his popularity. 

The next morning I looked at the papers, and 
saw all of them had given him an awful roast- 
ing, except the Sun. Amos J. Oummings, man- 
aging editor of the Sun, wrote an editorial in de- 
fense of Sullivan. In order to be certain that 
Sullivan would see it, I went to his hotel to show 
it to him. Upon going to his room I found him 
in a very bad state of mind — rolling and tum- 
bling in his bed, bemoaning his fate. I said, 
"Here, John, listen to this," and read the ar- 
ticle. After I finished reading the editorial he 
seemed to be quieter. Then I began to advise 
him to get into good condition, to make another 
match, and to give Mitchell the licking he de- 
served, which he was easily capable of doing 
when he was fit. 

Just then in walked Al. Smith with a big roll 
of bills in his hand, saying to Sullivan, "Here 
is your share of the money. " I cannot recall 
the exact amount he had, but it must have been 
between $3,000 and $4,000. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 101 

Jolin replied: "I don't want it. I didn't earn 
it. Give it to some charitable institution. ' ' 

Al. threw the roll on the table, saying it was 
not his to give away, and walked out, not even 
inquiring as to John's condition. I thought that 
rather queer of Al. It was queer, but, however, 
a fact that, intelligent a man as he was, Al. 
Smith failed to realize that he, more than any 
one else, was responsible for the predicament 
John L. had been placed in, by reason of send- 
ing him that telegram that the match was off. 
| John went home and braced up, and made a 
match to box McCaffrey in Cincinnati, McCaf- 
frey had been looking for this opportunity for 
a long time, but when he got it h& liked it so 
;well that Sullivan was kept busy sprinting after 
him, trying to locate him. It was like a game 
of tag — you're it, but you can't tag me. This 
alleged fight lasted for six rounds, and Sullivan 
would have knocked him out if McCaffrey had 
stood up and fought for one minute. Sullivan, 
of course, got the decision. 



102 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

John L. then went to Chicago to meet Jack 
Burke, the pretended Irish lad, who was really a 
Jew. In the meantime half a dozen big boils had 
broken out on Sullivan's neck. There was some 
talk of postponement, but John L. would not 
stand for this, remarking that if Burke touched 
one of his boils he would only beat him quicker. 
They met at the racetrack — in the open. Burke 
looked like a small boy alongside of John L., 
but he was there to get the money — and licking, 
too. In one of the clinches he hugged John 
around the neck with his arm, with the evident 
intention of breaking one of the boils, but he 
was sorry for that. John shook him off and 
went at him like a madman, hitting him a blow 
and knocking him sprawling, almost putting 
him out. After that, Burke did the sprinting 
act — the same as McCaffrey had. He was a 
clever fellow on his legs, and his skilful sprint- 
ing and ducking saved him. He certainly could 
not have lasted another round. Sullivan got the 
decision. He would have put Burke out in a 
round had he been in shape. 



CHAPTER VII 

SULLIVAN 'S LAST FIGHT IN NEW YOKK 

Sullivan then returned to Boston and took 
good care of himself, and a match was made for 
him to meet John Laughlin and Alf. Green- 
field, ex-champion of England, in Madison 
Square Garden, the fights to occur a week apart. 

He came on to New York to finish his train- 
ing at the Monaca Villa, 147th Street and 
St. Nicholas Avenue. He met Laughlin first. 
Laughlin measured six feet two in height, and 
weighed 210 pounds in condition — a perfect ath- 
lete in build, whom a great many people thought 
had a good chance of beating Sullivan at this 
time. He was trained to the minute, but it takes 
more than a fine build and condition to win a 
fight — nerve is required in conjunction with 

103 



104 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

skill. When John L. got on the stage in front 
of him, Laughlin lost the all-important qual- 
ity that goes to make up a fighting man — nerve. 
Laughlin danced and jumped around like 
a grasshopper, but avoided coming in close to 
John. Whenever John would dash up close 
Laughlin would clinch and hold him in a vise- 
like grip. John L. was simply holding his arms 
down, trying to get a punch in. The first round 
did not amount to anything. In the sec- 
ond round there was scarcely a blow struck, 
Laughlin continuing his jumping and clinching 
tactics. When the third round was called, 
Laughlin rushed and clinched, and with his 
great strength and weight forced Sullivan 
against the ropes. On the rebound Sulli- 
van swung his right like lightning, hitting 
Laughlin in the neck, and down he went, and 
was counted out. This blow was really the only 
one Sullivan struck him. It was a well-timed 
one, and in the right place. That ended 
Laughlin 's pugilistic ambitions. 



ti 




* 



it 








Just 
Landed 

A corker 



Mixing 
m |T „ 




THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 105 

The following week Sullivan met Greenfield. 
Greenfield was an extremely clever fellow, 
well-built, about 165 pounds in weight and about 
five feet nine inches tall. I sat in the audience 
that night among a group of Englishmen, whose 
conversation ran something like this: "H'alf 
will knock the blooming Yankee's 'ead h'off," 
and things of that kind. I got angry at that, 
after I had listened to this sort of thing a few 
minutes, and turning to one of them — a fighter, 
by the way, named Paddy Lee, "The Birming- 
ham Boy" — told him to shut up. This stopped 
their talking. 

When the men put their hands up, Greenfield 
held his arms very high, evidently looking for 
a blow on the jaw. John L. walked up to him 
as though he was not there, and he really was 
not much in comparison with Sullivan. Green- 
field immediately clinched Sullivan, but the ref- 
eree ordered him to break. This first round was 
a series of clinches on Greenfield's part, and no 
damage was done. Sullivan had not struck a 



106 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

blow. He put his head forward, inviting Green- 
field to hit him, but the latter was afraid to take 
a chance. 

In the second round, after a few feints and a 
good deal of jumping-jack work by Greenfield, 
he clinched with Sullivan. John L. shook him- 
self free, and hit him with the right arm on the 
neck, and sent him spinning across the ring. He 
went after him to finish him. Greenfield 
clinched again, hanging on like grim death ; both 
of John's arms were hanging down free, as he 
was trying to get in a decisive blow. At this 
time the police authorities thought there was 
danger of a knockout, and Inspector Thorne and 
Captain Williams jumped on the stage and 
placed their clubs between the men. It was a 
lucky thing for Greenfield that the police inter- 
fered. I turned to the Englishmen and said. 
"Now, what do you think of your 'bum' fighter, 
H'alf?" Greenfield was a good man in his 
class, but I made this remark as a retort to what 
they had said before the fight* 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 107 

This fight was Sullivan's last contest in New 
York City, although he gave several friendly ex- 
hibitions later on. 

At this time Sullivan was under the manage- 
ment of Pat Sheedy, and shortly after the 
Greenfield affair left for a tour of the country. 
John L. was meeting all comers, and he disposed 
of them as easily as he had on his previous 
trips. A match was made for him to meet 
Paddy Eyan in San Francisco. He knocked 
Paddy out in two rounds without any trouble. 
The latter, however, got $3,000 to heal his 
wounded feelings. 

On his way home John L. met Patsy Car- 
diff, of Minnesota, in Minneapolis. Cardiff 
was a finely-built fellow above five feet 
eleven, and weighed 185 pounds. He was very 
clever, but lacked nerve. He did nothing but 
clinch, clinch, and the first round was a series 
of clinches from one end to the other. The sec- 
ond round was about the same. In the third 
John L. walked right up to him with his hands 



108 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

down, trying to get him to come to him, so as 
to give him an opportunity to counter him. Car- 
diff jumped back into a corner, and as he ducked 
to get out John L. sprang in and uppercut him 
with his left hand on the top of the head, break- 
ing his arm above the wrist. He was in great 
pain, but did not have to use this arm again, 
as Cardiff would not come within hitting dis- 
tance of him after that. He was a good runner 
and sprinted all through the bout. Sullivan got 
the decision. My pupil, John Donaldson, Car- 
diff's partner in business out there, said that 
Cardiff told him that he thought Sullivan had 
hit him with a bar of iron when this blow landed 
on top of his head. 

When John L. came back to New York he had 
to have his arm broken over again. It had been 
improperly set, and to this day Sullivan's left 
arm is crooked. It was something like a year 
before he put on a glove. 

Sullivan had that fighting instinct which made 
him want to be at his profession all of the time. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 109 

He had a leather brace made for his arm, and 
went on the road. He stopped at Baltimore, 
where Kilrain was living at the time, and chal- 
lenged him, but Kilrain did not accept. About 
this time I was giving my annual show at the 
Broadway Hall, New York City, where the 
Broadway Theater is now located. Kilrain 
came on to box with me. After reading the 
morning papers, in which Sullivan had called 
Kilrain a cur and blackguarded him generally, 
I said to Kilrain, "Why, Jake, you wouldn't let 
a man talk that way about you without fighting 
him, would you?" Kilrain excused himself by 
saying he couldn't get a backer. 

That day I received a telephone message from 
the Sun office, asking me if Kilrain was in 
town, and saying they would send a man up to 
interview him. I replied that we were going 
downtown and we would call at the Sun office. 
We did call there during the day, and I intro- 
duced him to the editor. He assigned a man to 
interview him. The reporter got very little out 



110 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

of Kilrain. It looked to me as though he was 
even afraid to talk, although Sullivan was hun- 
dreds of miles away. 

The next time I saw Sullivan was in Boston 
in 1887 when I boxed with him on the night of 
the presentation of the $5,000 championship 
belt. This was just before his trip to England, 
where his well-known fight with Mitchell oc- 
curred. After his return to this country in 1888 
he had a very severe attack of typhoid fever, 
and for a long time was not expected to live. 
When he recovered he was only a shadow of his 
former self. Charley Mitchell, getting news 
that he was sick, thought this would be his 
chance to get Kilrain to beat Sullivan, Kilrain 
being in England at that time, posing around as 
champion. He accordingly sailed for this coun- 
try and made a match, acting as Kilrain 's 
backer. This fight was for $10,000 a side, and 
was to take place in the neighborhood of New 
Orleans. About this time I received a letter 
from my old friend, Dave Henessey, afterward 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 111 

assassinated by the Mafia, who was then Chief 
of Police at New Orleans, asking me if I could 
not arrange to get the management of the ex- 
cursions to the affair for his friend, Bud 
Renault. 

There was an impression abroad at that time 
that Kilrain would not get fair play in the com- 
ing fight, and when I went to Richard K. Fox 
about the matter he proposed that I act as Kil- 
rain 's second and go to New Orleans at once to 
pave the way for the match. I cared nothing 
for Kilrain, but the terms were favorable. I ac- 
cepted, and left a day or two later with Frank 
Stevenson, Mr. Fox's financial adviser, who was 
to manage the whole affair. I telegraphed the 
Chief I was coming. When we got within about 
seventy-five miles of New Orleans several 
friends of mine met us. Bud Renault was in the 
party. I was impressed with Renault's person- 
ality and prevailed on Stevenson to give him the 
excursion privilege. This caused Chief Henes- 
sey to be favorably inclined toward us. 



112 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

We left the train at Green River, Mississippi, 
and tried to discover a good ground for the 
fight. We found no suitable place, and Charley 
Rich, who had met us there, induced us to go to 
Richburg, Mississippi, his home, to try and find 
a battleground, which we did and finally decided 
to hold the fight there. 

We then went on to New Orleans, where I en- 
joyed a great reception. At the station I was 
met with carriages and escorted to the Southern 
Athletic Club. I had a glorious time in New 
Orleans, where I stopped with my old friend 
and boxing teacher, Pat Kendrick, the only man 
who ever gave me a boxing lesson. I was wined 
and dined every night, and was glad to leave to 
meet Kilrain and his party at Green River ten 
days later, for I knew I could not stand the 
pace I was going — the late hours knocked me 
out, although I hadn't had a drop of liquor 
during my stay there. 

Kilrain was accompanied by Charley Mitch- 
all. After shaking hands we sat down for a 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 113 

chat. I noticed a stout man about 55 years of 
age, with a decided limp, walking up and down 
and watching each of us closely. I turned to 
Mitchell and asked who he was. 

"Why, he's Norris, the detective I hired in 

Cincinnati to see us through," he replied. 

: i ' See you through ? " I said. ' ' You don 't need 

any one to see you through. You'll be surprised 

at the reception you will get in New Orleans." 

When we reached New Orleans a committee 
from the Southern Athletic Club was at the sta- 
tion with carriages and carry-alls to meet us. 
They had been sent by the president of the club, 
Mr. Bud Walmsley. We drove to the club, 
where Kilrain was offered the gymnasium to 
finish his training, and the annex, a private 
house, as sleeping quarters for his party. 

At the station Mitchell was met by a short, 
chunky man, whom he greeted cordially. I 
asked Stevenson who he was. He replied, 
"That's Bat Masterson." That was the first 
time I ever saw him. 



,114 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Bat never stirred from Mitchell's side until 
the latter left New Orleans. 

During our stay at the club Mitchell ordered 
Kilrain around like a lackey, Jake obeying like 
a boy. Several members of the club spoke to 
me about it, saying Kilrain didn't act much like 
a man who could beat Sullivan. 

I spoke to Kilrain about the matter the next 
morning, the day before the fight, saying: 
"Jake, what do you let Mitchell order you 
around for? You are the man who's going to 
do the fighting — not he." 

He made some excuse, but conditions con- 
tinued to be the same. 

Mitchell had a much stronger character, and 
was able to dominate him. Mitchell's attitude 
made me mad. He posed as the big man of the 
party, taking the credit from Kilrain, to whom 
it rightly belonged. If it had not been for my 
agreement with Mr. Fox, who had always 
treated me most fairly, I would have thrown 
up my job then and there. 




J. L. SULLIVAN— 1886 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 115 

That afternoon, Sunday, we left to go to the 
special train that was to take Kilrain and his 
party and Sullivan and his crowd to the battle- 
ground. I got two carriages and, putting the 
luggage in one, got in with Johnny Murphy, our 
bottle-holder, and started; Mitchell, Kilrain, 
Bat Masterson and Pony Moore, Mitchell's 
father-in-law, following in the other. 

"While Johnny and I were waiting for the oth- 
ers, Sullivan came through the station, accom- 
panied by Billy Muldoon, who had trained him 
for this fight, and Mike Cleary, his second. 

Sullivan walked with a quick, springy step. 
As he passed he gave me a glance that bordered 
on contempt. In spite of this I could not help 
but admire his magnificent figure, as he was in 
excellent shape. I had not believed he could 
get into such fine condition. All thoughts of 
Kilrain 's winning vanished from my mind. 

I turned to Murphy and said, "Johnny, we 
are going to second a loser to-morrow as sure 
as you live." He replied, "Oh, Sullivan's only 
throwing a bluff." 



116 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

"Kilrain will think as I do the minute he 
claps eyes on Sullivan, ' ' I told him. 

We waited and waited, but Kilrain and the 
rest did not appear. Finally the train pulled 
out. My first thought was that some one in the 
Sullivan party had put up a job on us. I rushed 
up to the station-master and offered him one 
hundred dollars to give me an engine and car 
to catch the train. The station-master then told 
me Kilrain and his party had gone to a point 
three blocks below the station and had sent a 
messenger, telling him to stop the train there 
for them. 

I never understood this action on Mitchell's 
part. I can't believe Charley Mitchell was 
afraid to walk through that station, although 
he did pretend all of the time that he was in 
the South that he was in danger of being shot 
on account of his draw with Sullivan. He al- 
ways carried two guns. I'm more inclined, 
however, to think that he was posing, in order 
to draw attention to himself, for Mitchell was 
as game a man as ever lived. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 117 

As a result of this affair I had to wait for 
the excursion train that night and arrived at 
Eichburg the following morning tired out. 

I went to Rich's house at once to see Kilrain. 
Sullivan was quartered in another house near 
by. Just as I got inside the door Mitchell 
rushed up and asked me why I hadn't taken the 
special train. I replied that he knew why I 
hadn't, saying that he allowed me to wait for 
him at the station without telling me he was 
not coming there, when we had arranged, before 
we left the club, that we should all meet there 
and get on the train together. 

Mitchell kept growling about not getting the 
lunch he had prepared for Kilrain. I got tired 
of it, and said to him: "What's the matter 
with you, Mitchell? Do you think you are a 
bigger man than Sullivan? He walked through 
the station." Then I added: "I wasn't going 
to carry those heavy bags of yours on to the 
train. Why didn't you come and put them on 
yourself !" 



118 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I went into Rich's bedroom, where Kilrain 
was dressing for the fight. " Hello, Jake," I 
said. "How are you?" I reproached him for 
not coming to the station for Murphy and me. 
He said it was Mitchell's doing, not his. He 
was very nervous, although he controlled him- 
self as best he could. 

About this time Bud Renault came in and, 
calling me out on the porch, told me that the 
county magistrate had threatened to read the 
riot act and stop the fight unless he got $250. 
Renault said Johnson, Sullivan's backer, 
wanted to postpone the fight and pull it off 
somewhere else. He asked me what to do. I 
knew Kilrain could not win and saw an oppor- 
tunity to get out of the match and advised Re- 
nault not to give up the money. 

Mitchell immediately spoke up, saying, "Give 
it to him. Don't you see Sullivan's afraid to 
fight Jake?" 

"Mitchell," said I, "you were never more 
mistaken. You know Sullivan was never afraid 
of a man in his life." 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 119 

The upshot of the matter was that Renault 
gave this grafter his $250 and he withdrew his 
opposition, although he perfunctorily read the 
riot act from the ring. 

Kilrain had not heard this conversation. 
Mitchell went into his room and explained the 
matter to him, again saying Sullivan was afraid 
to go on with the fight. Kilrain looked at him 
stonily, but did not make any comment. 



CHAPTER VIII 

SULLIVAN BEATS KILBAIN" 

As I prepared Kilrain for the ring I studied 
him closely. He acted more like a man going 1 
to his own execution than a man who was go- 
ing to fight for the championship. He was cov- 
ered with a nervous sweat, and his eyes were 
glazed. 

We made our way through and got into the 
ring, arriving there first. In a few minutes 
Sullivan appeared, followed by Muldoon and 
Cleary. He was covered with a bathrobe and 
climbed through the ropes close to us without 
looking at Kilrain, and walked across the ring 
to his corner. He threw off his bathrobe, say- 
ing to Pat Duffy as he did so, "Watch me lick 
that fellow now." He turned his back to us 

120 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 121 

and extended his arms horizontally. He turned 
and looked over his shoulder at Kilrain with a 
savage frown, as much as to say, "Look at me." 
His great arms and flat, broad shoulders were 
covered with muscles. His deltoid muscles stood 
out so prominently that he looked like a giant. 
He had not been in such good shape since I 
met him in Boston in 1880 — nine years before. 
He was heavily tanned from exercising in the 
open air. Muldoon had worked wonders with 
him. 

I said to Kilrain, "Look at him, Jake." He 
looked up. The whole expression of his face 
changed, and he dropped his head. 

A friend of mine at the ring-side whispered 
to me, "That fellow's licked now." 

"Yes," I replied. 

Time was called, and they walked to the 
scratch, where Jake and Sullivan shook hands. 
It was customary then for the seconds to shake 
hands also. I shook with Cleary, and Mitchell 
with Muldoon. Me then returned to our cor- 
ners. 



122 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Kilrain, in comparison with Sullivan, looked 
like a middleweight, although he weighed 180 
pounds. He was taller than Sullivan, but was 
round-shouldered and looked narrow-chested. 

Sullivan led his left for the head. Kilrain 
side-stepped and got away. Sullivan again led 
with his left. Kilrain ducked and clinched, try- 
ing for the fall (London Prize Eing rules). 
Sullivan threw him easily and fell on him 
heavily. 

In the second round they were sparring for 
an opening when Kilrain stabbed his left into 
Sullivan's mouth, drawing a little blood, duck- 
ing to avoid a counter. Sullivan stepped back 
and said, "Say, Jake, can't you hit harder than 
that ? ' ' I heard him and cried : ' ' It hurt him all 
right, Jake. Do it again. ' ' 

Sullivan rushed, swinging his right; Kilrain 
got inside, Sullivan's arm going round his neck. 
He tried for the fall. Sullivan threw him. 

The third opened with Kilrain rushing in to a 
clinch. Sullivan threw him. When Kilrain 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 123 

came back to his corner Mitchell told him he 
was doing right in trying to wrestle with Sul- 
livan. I said to him: "If you fight him another 
round like that he'll beat you. Keep away — be 
clever — fight at long range. Take my advice. 
It's your only chance." 

The falls had hurt him. He was tired then, 
so he took my advice and kept away, and up to 
the thirty-fifth round falling without being hit 
and doing everything possible to prolong the 
battle. 

If Sullivan had been as fast as he was at his 
best, Kilrain wouldn't have lasted three rounds. 
As it was, he carried too much flesh, weighing 
over 210 pounds, although he was stronger than 
he had been for some time. 

In the thirty-fifth round Sullivan led with his 
left Kilrain stepped back and tripped. Sulli- 
van overbalanced as he led and fell with his 
knees on the other's neck. This was uninten- 
tional on Sullivan's part. 

We carried Kilrain to his corner, with his 



124 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

head rolling from side to side. He was more 
dead than alive, I said to Mitchell, "It's all 
over, Charley," as I didn't think Kilrain could 
come up for the next round. A glass of whisky 
revived him. 

He kept away from Sullivan after that. In 
the fortieth round Sullivan was seized with a 
vomiting spell in the middle of the ring, due to 
drinking ice-cold tea and sucking a lemon, which 
nauseated him. The vomiting was not due to 
lack of condition. 

I had noticed Sullivan gulping before, and 
told Jake to go for his stomach, but he was 
afraid to go near him. 

Sullivan's hands were at his side, his head 
tilted forward. He stood that way for ten sec- 
onds. I shouted to Kilrain to hit him in the 
stomach, but he made no attempt to rush. In- 
stead he said, "John, I'll call it a draw with 
you." 

Sullivan replied, "No, we'll fight it out," and 
rushed at him. Kilrain fell without being hit. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 125 

Chief Henessey had promised me personal 
protection in case of trouble, but had warned 
me not to bring attention to myself. I kept ad- 
vising Kilrain in a low tone, telling him not to 
be afraid of Sullivan's left hand, as it was sore, 
cautioning him, however, to avoid Sullivan's 
right. This nettled John L., and as he told 
me afterward he made up his mind to hit Kil- 
rain once with his left to dispel this impres- 
sion, and in the fiftieth round he landed fair on 
Kilrain 's nose with his left, causing the latter to 
turn a back somersault. This was the cleanest 
and hardest blow of the fight up to that time. 

I wanted Mitchell to quit then, knowing Kil- 
rain had no chance, and fearing that if he were 
knocked out he'd never recover consciousness. 
He was very weak. Mitchell would not hear of 
it, and let him go on, saying from time to time : 
"You've got him, Jake. You've got him." It 
made me mad to see this game fellow sacrificed, 
and I said to Mitchell, "For God's sake, how, 
Charley?" 



126 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

The fight became a farce after the fiftieth 
round. Kilrain was so weak he was falling 
from exhaustion, and Sullivan was creeping 
round like a snail. 

It continued this way to the seventy-fourth 
round, when I saw Sullivan was getting 
stronger, and said to Kilrain: "Jake, you 
haven't a chance on earth. Let me give in for 
you. ' \ 

"Mike," he said, "I'd rather die." 

"All right," I said, "I'll let you fight this 
round; but, for God's sake, don't let him hit 
you in the jaw. If he does, you'll never recover 
consciousness." 

Time was called, and he went to the scratch. 
He walked around the ring once, Sullivan fol- 
lowing. He got Jake into the corner and 
stepped in. Kilrain was so weak he had to 
spread his legs to support himself. He could 
scarcely raise Ms arms. I saw Sullivan in- 
tended to hit him in the jaw, and rushed along 
the ropes until I was close to him and called, 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 127 

" Jake, for God's sake, put up your guard." He 
raised his arms slowly, and as he did so Sulli- 
van crashed his right to the body. Kilrain col- 
lapsed, his eyes rolling in their sockets. We 
carried him to his corner. He was gone. 

I said: "That settles it. I'm going over." I 
rushed over to the referee, John Fitzpatrick, 
and said, "I give over. My man's beat." 

1 ' Throw up the sponge, then, ' ' he said. I did 
as he directed. On looking round I saw Mitch- 
ell in Sullivan's corner and wondered what he 
was doing there. 

Charley Johnson, Sullivan's backer, sang 
out : "No, no, that don't go. Donovan threw the 
sponge up." 

It seems Mitchell had asked Sullivan if he 
would give Kilrain $2,000 if he'd throw up the 
sponge and John had assented, not because he 
believed he couldn't win, but from that generous 
disregard of money he'd always shown. 

Mitchell rushed back and picked Kilrain up 
and carried him to the scratch, motioning to 



128 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Sullivan, saying, "Come on; we'll fight to the 
death." 

I'd already seen two men die from being 
knocked out when in an exhausted condition, 
and sprang out and stopped it again, saying, 
"I will not be a party to manslaughter.' ' Kil- 
rain began to cry. I said to him: "Jake, you 
are a game fellow. You fought the best you 
knew how. The papers will give you full 
credit." And they did. 

Kilrain was so weak he couldn't get out of 
the ring until the ropes had been taken down. 

We put him in a buggy after a great deal of 
trouble, as he was horribly sunburned and 
badly beaten. Every movement he made hurt 
him. We drove him down to the train. 

Kilrain could never have gone through this 
fight without whisky, of which he drank over 
a quart between the rounds. 

We got him aboard the train after a good 
deal of trouble. 

Jake was suffering terribly from sunburn* 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 129 

the day having been very hot. His back was 
a mass of huge blisters. Sullivan had no trou- 
ble in this respect, as Muldoon had trained him 
in the open air, and his back and arms were 
heavily tanned. When we got aboard the train 
I took a seat beside Jake and tried to cheer him 
up. Mitchell went forward into the smoking- 
car. 

Shortly after the train started Kilrain began 
to groan and complain of a severe pain in his 
left side. This alarmed me, as I thought his 
heart might be affected. I rushed into the next 
car and inquired for a doctor. One responded, 
and I asked him to come back and look at Jake, 
as I thought he was in bad shape. He did so, 
and after examining him for a moment told me 
there was no danger, as the pain was the result 
of inflammation caused by the last blow Sulli- 
van had struck him. 

In a few minutes Mitchell came in and in- 
quired as to Kilrain 's condition. Jake replied 
quietly that he was all right. He seemed to 



130 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

realize that Mitchell cared nothing for him, but 
had only used him as a possible means of beat- 
ing Sullivan. In fact, it had been arranged that 
in the event of Kilrain 's winning he and Mitch- 
ell would leave at once for England with their 
families, where Kilrain would take up his resi- 
dence. Mitchell of course would have profited 
greatly in that event. In fact, it had been ar- 
ranged for Charley Eich to stop the north- 
bound Cannon Ball Express to take Mitchell, 
Kilrain and Pony Moore aboard. 

As Mitchell turned to leave I said, g ' Charley, 
if Jake had won to-day you would be sitting 
right where I am now." He made no reply, but 
grinned sarcastically and left us. 

After he had gone Kilrain said to me, "Mike, 
you were the only true friend I had in the ring 
to-day." That was true, for Mitchell would 
have allowed Kilrain to fight as long as he could 
stand up, and if he had been allowed to go on 
after receiving the body punch Sullivan gave 
him in the seventy-fifth round I don't believe he 
would ever have left Eichburg alive. 
1 




DONOVAN DUCKING RIGHT CROSS AND PUTTING LEFT TO 

BODY 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 131 

When we got to New Orleans we went at 
once to the Southern Athletic Club, where we 
gave Kilrain a warm bath and put him to bed. 
He was in horrible condition — so sore and 
burned that he could hardly be touched. After 
he had been put to bed I sent out and got sev- 
eral large jars of cold cream, and tearing one of 
my white linen shirts into strips made plasters 
for his blistered back. 

Just then Chief of Police Henessey came in 
to inquire after Kilrain. Jake told him he was 
all right, but was pretty sore. 

"Chief," I said, "he is afraid the Mississippi 
State authorities will make trouble for him." 

The Chief said: "Kilrain, you needn't worry 
about that. I'll take care of you. If they come 
here after you they must see me first. If they 
don't I'll lock them up. You are all right." 

I left him in charge of Johnny Murphy and 
went down to the St. Charles Hotel, where an 
incident occurred of which Mitchell is in igno- 
rance to this day. 



132 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Mitchell was posing around the hotel rotunda, 
treating people in a superior and patronizing 
manner, Bat Masterson following him like a 
shadow. 

As I stood watching him I was approached 
by a young friend of mine named Eeynolds. 
After chatting a few moments he pointed at 
Mitchell and said, "I'm going to kill that Eng- 
lishman to-night." 

"My Lord! what are you going to do that 
for?" I asked aghast, knowing he was a 
"killer" and would be as good as his word. 
"Didn't I second Kilrain against Sullivan to- 
day as well as he?" 

He replied that I was all right, but it made 
him mad to see Mitchell strutting around put- 
ting on airs. 

I told Eeynolds I thought that a small ex- 
cuse for killing a man, adding, "Don't you see 
Bat Masterson with him? He might kill you." 

Quick as a flash he replied, "Well, then, I'll 
kill him, too." j 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 133 

I saw that if I didn't get Reynolds away 
quickly he would make trouble, so I induced him 
to go downstairs to the other bar of the hotel 
to talk things over. I did my best to get him 
to say he would not do as he threatened, but he 
was obstinate and finally insisted on returning 
to the rotunda. [When we got upstairs I found, 
much to my relief*, that Mitchell and Masterson 
had left the place. 

At four o'clock the next morning Mitchell 
came to Kilrain's room and saw him for the 
first time since he left him a few minutes out 
of Richburg. He told him the Mississippi 
State authorities were in town after them and 
urged him to leave, telling him to put on his 
clothes and come at once. 

Kilrain got up and dressed. How he ever got 
his clothes on in the condition he was, let alone 
bearing the weight of them, is more than I can 
understand. 

It was a strange thing that Kilrain had the 
pluck to put up the fight he did against Sulli- 



134 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

van, but lacked the moral courage to say "no" 
to Mitchell, as he must have known, after 
Chief Henessey's assurances, that he was 
perfectly safe. Mitchell, however, dominated 
him completely, and he obeyed his every com- 
mand without question. They left town on the 
first train. 

That day I was approached by the detective 
whom Mitchell had hired as a bodyguard in 
Cincinnati. He was wild with rage, saying that 
Mitchell had promised him $250 for his serv- 
ices and had skipped without paying him for 
protecting him on the way down. Norris after- 
ward went to the Governor of Mississippi and 
induced him to issue warrants for the princi- 
pals and seconds concerned in the fight, telling 
the Governor he would guarantee to bring them 
back for trial. 

He at once started in pursuit of Mitchell and 
Kilrain, following them through Arkansas, 
Missouri and Indiana, and finally overtaking 
Kilrain in Baltimore, where he placed him un- 
der arrest. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 135 

They had a hard time, leaving trains at way 
stations and driving across the country in bug- 
gies, trying to throw him off the scent. 

As a result of this foolishness, which could 
all have been avoided if Mitchell had paid his 
honest debt to Norris, Billy Muldoon, Mike 
Cleary and myself were forced to return to 
Mississippi in the winter of 1890 to answer the 
charge of being directly implicated in the Sul- 
livan-Kilrain fight. 

When we reached Eichburg, Mississippi, 
where the fight had occurred, Mr. Charley Eich 
put up security for our bail, which saved us 
from lying in jail until the following June. 

While we were in Eichburg we received an 
offer from Mr. Walmsley, whom I have men- 
tioned before, to give a combination boxing and 
wrestling exhibition in New Orleans on a basis 
of 60 per cent, of the gross receipts. We gave 
the show and succeeded in making enough to 
pay the expenses of our trip from New York 
and during our stay in the South, so we were 
y§iy well satisfied. 



CHAPTER IX 

COEBETT COMES ON THE SCENE 

While we were in New Orleans Jim Corbett, 
who was just coming into prominence, was 
matched to fight Jake Kilrain, who was also in 
New Orleans, six rounds at the Southern Ath- 
letic Club about a week later. Corbett arrived 
in town from San Francisco, and as soon as he 
learned I was there he expressed a desire to see 
me, and a meeting was arranged. The next day 
he came to see me. 

There were several men besides myself in the 
room, but he walked straight up to me, saying : 
"How are you, Mike? I'm glad to meet you." 

"How did you know me?" I asked. 

Corbett laughed and then explained that K© 
had heard a great deal about me from my 

136 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 137 

friends in San Francisco, and that they had de- 
scribed my appearance and shown him so many 
photographs that he would have known me any- 
where. 

When we sat down I had a chance to look 
him over. He was a big boy in appearance; 
tall and slender, but with wide shoulders and 
clean-cut limbs. I liked his looks very much on 
the whole. 

I asked him what kind of a man Peter Jack- 
son was, more to sound his knowledge of boxing 
than to learn anything about Jackson. 

He sprang up and assumed a boxing position, 
showing me how Jackson delivered a blow and 
how he used his legs. He imitated to perfec- 
tion that little backward skip which Jackson 
could do so well. 

When he had finished he had given us an ac- 
tual picture of Jackson in action and also shown 
me that he understood the art of boxing thor- 
oughly. I told Corbett he had come along just 
in time to beat John L. 



138 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

He appeared to be much surprised at my 
statement, and protested that he could not beat 
Sullivan, saying the latter was much too big for 
him. 

I asked him if he had ever seen Sullivan box, 
and he told me he had seen him beat Robinson 
and Paddy Ryan in San Francisco a few years 
before. 

I told him that Sullivan now and Sullivan at 
the time he beat Paddy Ryan were altogether 
different propositions, and added that he, being 
a boy when he saw the fights, probably had an 
exaggerated idea of the ability of both men, and 
that a little more fighting experience would 
probably make him see things in a very differ- 
ent light. I told him the coming fight with Kil- 
rain would be a good thing for him in the way 
of experience, adding that Sullivan would not 
fight again for another year, and that every 
year he remained idle would make John L. 
easier to beat, while he would be gaining knowl- 
edge and experience. Corbett then asked me 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 139 

some questions as to Kilrain 's ability and his 
style of boxing. 

In the room with us at this time were several 
friends and admirers of Kilrain, and as I did 
not like to speak freely in their presence I said 
to Corbett, in a low tone, that if he would go 
with me to a restaurant in St. Charles Street I 
would give him all the information I could in 
regard to Kilrain. 

Accordingly, Corbett, my old friend Pat 
Kendrick, his son James and myself went 
across to a little restaurant and got a quiet 
table in a corner. "We had a long talk concern- 
ing Kilrain, and I gave Corbett all the informa- 
tion I had at my command. Pat Kendrick, who 
had been a very clever man in his younger days 
and who was a close student of the game, also 
gave him a great many valuable suggestions. 
After we had been talking for an hour or more 
I told Corbett that, if he wished us to, I would 
come to his training quarters and show him all 
I could about Kilrain, and that I would bring 



140 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Mr. Kendrick and his son with me, in order 
that they might coach him if necessary, al- 
though I added I did not think that would be 
necessary. When I reached his quarters that 
evening I illustrated Kilrain's style of boxing 
to Corbett, showing him that while Jake was 
clever in guarding and ducking, he was too slow 
on his feet to be a really clever boxer. 

When I finished speaking Corbett commenced 
to "shadow-box," that is, dance in and out be- 
fore an imaginary opponent, leading, feinting 
and ducking with remarkable speed. 

He displayed to me then the wonderful foot- 
work and skill which afterward caused him to be 
spoken of as the cleverest heavyweight in the 
world. 

It is needless to say I was much impressed by 
his work-out, for in addition to his great clever- 
ness, Corbett was at that time a fine specimen 
of physical manhood. He is over six feet in 
height and weighed then about 170 pounds. He 
was the ideal athlete, his muscular development 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 141 

being beautifully symmetrical. He has good 
shoulders, a small waist and long, perfectly 
modeled limbs. His eyes were bright and lim- 
pid, and his skin as clear as that of a child. In 
addition to his skill and physical perfection, 
Corbett showed unmistakable signs of strength 
and great endurance. 

When he had finished his shadow-boxing, I 
told him that if he would keep cool and not get 
nervous Kilrain would not be able to lay a glove 
on him for a month. This gave him confidence, 
as he realized I knew Kilrain like a book. 

The talk then turned to Corbett 's future, and 
I told him if he would come to New York after 
the fight I would introduce him to every one con- 
nected with boxing there, who was worth know- 
ing, and who would be of great service to him 
later on. He said he would have to return to 
San Francisco after the Kilrain fight, but that 
he intended to come to New York immediately 
after that. 

I left wishing him all kinds of good luck and 



142 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

he promised to look me up when he oame to 
New York. 

The next day I dropped in at the Cotton Ex- 
change to see Mr. Walmsley, whom I found in 
his office with another gentleman, a Mr. Merritt. 

When Mr. Walmsley heard I had been out to 
see Corbett he asked me what I thought of him. 

I said: "Mr. Walmsley, this young fellow 
Corbett is going to give you a surprise." 

"How so?" he asked. "You surely don't 
think he can beat Kilrain, do you?" 

i ' As sure as you 're alive, ' ' I answered. ' i Cor- 
bett is a good man, and if you have a fair referee 
there is no doubt about it. All he needs is a 
fair show. Kilrain is a favorite in the club, 
and it may be hard to find a referee who will be 
impartial. ' ' 

He assured me Corbett would get fair treat- 
ment, saying that if he was the best man he 
would win. 

He did not take my prediction very seriously, 
however, as he thought, like many others, that 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 143 

Kilrain's fight with Sullivan showed him to be 
the best man in the country outside of John L... 
when, as I have explained, Kilrain would not 
have lasted one round with Sullivan if he had 
stood and fought him face to face. 

He said to me: "Why, Mike, Kilrain's a 
great fighter." 

I replied: "Very well, Mr. Walmsley, but af- 
ter it's over remember what I have just told 
you." 

Before I left his office he asked me who I 
thought would be a good man to act as referee. 
I replied that I didn't know any man in the club 
who knew more about boxing than Mr. Merritt, 
who was still in the room, and that I didn't 
think a better choice could be made. 

Mr. Merritt thanked me for the compliment, 
and Mr. Walmsley arranged for him to act as 
referee. 

I bade them good-by and started for the sta- 
tion, as I was leaving for New York on the four- 
thirty train. 



144 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Corbett met Kilrain a week or so afterward 
and justified my faith in him by getting the de- 
cision easily. Kilrain could not do anything 
with him. 

About six weeks after his fight with Kilrain, 
Corbett came in to see me at the New York Ath- 
letic Club. I arranged to have him made my 
guest there. Corbett and I boxed every day for 
a month, he helping me with my pupils. 

I told Corbett he was just the man to beat 
Sullivan, adding that John L.'s tour around the 
country would not improve him any, and telling 
him that if he didn't go after Sullivan, Slavin, 
the Australian, who was coming to the front 
rapidly, would do so. I told Jim I would rather 
have him beat Sullivan, as he was an American 
and also thought that on that account Sullivan 
would give him the first chance. 

In our daily sparring I imitated John L. as 
nearly as possible, emphasizing above every- 
thing else Sullivan's three blows : 

A chop with the left to beat down his oppo- 
nent's guard; 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 145 

Shooting in the right fist like a cannon-ball; 
or 

Swinging the right arm on the neck like a 
club. 

Corbett constantly practiced avoiding these 
blows. 

His improvement was remarkable, owing to 
his unusual intelligence and quickness to grasp 
new ideas. For example, I will say that during 
the first week I could hit him in the body pretty 
often, but after that time it became almost im- 
possible to reach him. 

Corbett 's head was always hard to reach. In 
fact, he might well boast that no one was ever 
able to mark him. 

Corbett was at the beginning only a long- 
range boxer. I taught him how to get in close 
and put force in his blows so as to punish his 
opponent's body. 

About this time I told Jim I thought he ought 
to do something to show people in New York 
just what he could do. He said that he was 



146 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

willing, and I went to Billy O'Brien, Dominick 
McCaffrey's manager, and asked him if we 
couldn't arrange for Jim and Dominick to give 
a four-round exhibition. 

He assented and the match was arranged for 
a week or so later. The men met and the bout 
was stopped in the third round by the referee, 
McCaffrey hanging on the ropes helpless, the 
result of Corbett's effective body punching at 
close quarters. 

This match caused a great deal of comment, 
and Corbett came into prominence at once ; be- 
ing talked about all over the country, and the 
newspapers published columns about him. 

After this affair he returned to San Fran- 
cisco, where he became boxing instructor of the 
Olympic Club at a salary of $2,500 a year. I 
then went to Mississippi again, where I was 
fined for my connection with the Sullivan-Kil- 
rain fight. 

I at once returned to New York, and at that 
time I wrote Corbett, saying the thing he needed 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 147 

most was work with heavy tools, and advising 
him to do three or four hours' work a day in 
some friend's blacksmith shop. 

Physical labor strengthens an athlete more 
than gymnasium work, as the jarring of the 
muscles and tendons from striking heavy blows 
gives him a toughness and power of resistance 
which he cannot gain in any other way. 

Corbett had never done any manual labor, and 
while his muscles were well developed, they 
lacked the toughness of fiber from hard work 
in early youth. Pie followed my advice and did 
this for some weeks. About this time (1891) a 
match was made for him with Peter Jackson, 
the great Australian champion. 

Jackson, as a matter of fact, was born in 
Kingston, Jamaica, and went to Australia when 
he was about 15 years old, as a cabin boy on a 
ship. 

This fight lasted over sixty rounds, being de- 
clared "no contest, " neither man being able to 
finish the other. 



148 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

After this fight Corbett went on the road un- 
der the management of William A. Brady. 
Jackson challenged Corbett to a return fight, 
but the latter evaded the issue, saying he want- 
ed a year's rest. 

About this time Sullivan returned from Aus- 
tralia, and as his trip had not turned out very 
successfully, he challenged Slavin and Mitchell 
— who were in this country at the time — and 
"that pillow pusher" Corbett. 

Mitchell and Slavin were in New York. 
Mitchell was very anxious to have Slavin meet 
Sullivan. 

He went to Eichard K. Fox in an attempt to 
get him to back Slavin. 

Billy Madden had brought Slavin and Mitch- 
ell to this country and arranged the match with 1 
Kilrain for Slavin. Slavin by beating Kil- 
rain made a large amount of money for himself 
and Mitchell. 

Far from being grateful, he and Mitchell 
abandoned Madden. Madden in the meantime 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 149 

had gone to Mr. Fox and told him the facts in 
regard to this matter, and he refused to give 
them backing. 

Corbett came to town a few days later and 
telephoned me, asking me to meet him at the 
Coleman House. 

The first thing I said to him when we met 
was : " Jim, you must get this match.' ' He told 
me Brady was willing to put up $2,500 of the 
$10,000 necessary as a stake, but would not put 
it up until the rest was promised. I said to 
him: "Nail Sullivan now. Brady must make 
the match. I'll put up a thousand myself and 
find $1,500 more. There's half the money. Be- 
sides this, I think Mr. Edward Kearney will put 
up $1,250 and Phil Dwyer that much more. 
There's $7,500. You can go on the stage and 
make $2,500 more." 

; He replied: "Brady won't make the match 
unless all the money is promised." 

We left the Coleman House and went to the 
[Hoffman House. After stopping there a few; 



150 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

minutes we went on to Koster & BiaPs concert 
hall to talk matters over. 

On the way I kept insisting that he should 
force Billy Brady to make this match. 

We had just taken our seats when an usher 
spoke to me, saying that a gentleman in an op- 
posite box wanted to see me. I looked over and 
saw it was Colonel Frederick McLewee. I went 
over at once, taking Jim with me. After intro- 
ducing Corbett to Colonel McLewee, he asked 
me what I was doing there. 

I said: "We are looking for money to bind a 
match with Sullivan for Jim here. We have 
got $5,000 and we want the rest of the money 
before we go on with the match. Corbett is sure 
to beat Sullivan.' 9 

"Well, Mike," he said, "you've always 
spoken pretty highly of this young fellow," and 
after a few moments added: "I'll find $2,500 for 
you. There's $7,500." 

After talking a few minutes, Colonel Mc- 
Lewee, taking a fancy to Corbett, said: "Boys, 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 151 

I'll find the other $2,500. Now you have got 
your $10,000. Go ahead and fight." 

Needless to say both Corbett and I were over- 
joyed, and after thanking the Colonel we left 
and went home happy. 

Two or three days later Brady met Charley 
Johnson, Sullivan's backer, at the New York 
World office and made arrangements for the 
match, which was to take place September. 7th. 
It was then about the middle of March. 

After this Corbett went on the road with his 
show and returned to New York about the mid- 
dle of June and started training at Asbury 
Park, New Jersey, in charge of Brady. 

A short time after this Colonel McLewee sent 
for me from Monmouth Park, where his racing 
stable was located, and told me that on account 
of having seen Corbett out late one night, a vio- 
lation of training rules and a breaking of Cor- 
bett *s promise to him, he didn't feel like putting 
up the second $2,500. I was thunderstruck, as 
money was not so easy to get for that match. 



152 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I argued with him, telling him it would place 
me in a fearful position. I remained overnight 
with him and didn't sleep a wink. 

The next morning at breakfast the Colonel 
asked me how I felt. I replied I had not slept 
and that I was worried. 

"Mike," he said, "I wouldn't go back on you 
for anything in the world. Corbett doesn't de- 
serve my support, but if you can't get the money 
anywhere else I'll put it up for you; not for 
Corbett, understand. ' ' 

I telegraphed Corbett to come at once to Mon- 
mouth Park and meet me there. He arrived in 
the course of an hour and I told him that he had 
broken his word to Colonel McLewee and me. 
He started to make excuses. I broke in on them 
and said: 

"Well, Colonel McLewee won't put up the 
money." 

' < What ? " he cried. < ' What will we do now ? ' ' 

I knew he was a high-strung, nervous fellow 
and was afraid the excitement would hurt him, 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 153 

so I reassured him, saying: "Don't worry, Jim. 
I'll get the money all right. I'll go inside the 
track now and see Phil Dwyer [the stake- 
holder], but regardless of what he says you can 
rely on me to get the money. ' ' 

He waited while I saw Dwyer. The latter 
seemed reluctant to put up anything and said 
that he would see. That didn't satisfy me, so 
I left him and returned to Corbett. 

Jim walked back to Asbury Park and I took 
the train. 

After taking supper with him I returned to 
the city and went at once to the Gilsey House 
to see Al. Smith. 

I found him in the rotunda, and calling him 
aside, told him the circumstances. I then said: 
"AL, Phil Dwyer won't find that money. I've 
got a thousand I'll put up. Can you let me have 
the other $1,500?" 

"Mike," he said, "I'd like to'help you out, 
but as you know I've managed Sullivan and 
been on the road with 'him. Everybody knows 



154 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I've made a lot of money through my connection 
with him. What would people think of me if 
I backed Corbett against him?" 

"AL," I said, "if you can give it to me no- 
body will be the wiser. It will help me out. ' ' 

"Mike," he declared, "you can't afford to 
lose a thousand dollars." 

"I won't lose it, AL," I replied. "Jim is sure 
to beat John L." 

He hesitated for a moment, then said : i ' Mike, 
I'll find you the $2,500 if you can't get it from 
any one else, but I don't want to be mixed up in 
this match for the reasons I've given you." 

I went out and telegraphed Corbett that I had 
the money, and the next day Mr. Kearney put 
up $1,250 and induced Dwyer to do the same. 

On Sunday morning, our sleeper and exercis- 
ing car were detached at Charlotte, North Caro- 
lina, as Corbett wanted to go down by easy 
stages, so as to get more road work. Billy 
Brady procured two carriages and we all took a 




DONOVAN SIDE STEPPING LEFT AND PUTTING RIGHT TO 
SOLAR PLEXUS 



THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 155 

ride about two miles out of the town. When we 
got out that distance, Jim jumped out of his 
hack. I asked him what he was going to do. 
"Why, run to town," said he. I told him that he 
was very foolish to run back and inhale all that 
dust, at the same time pointing at the clouds of 
dust. I was astonished, and told him it would 
do him more harm than good, and besides it was 
too hot a day to run so far. He ought to run 
about a mile and get into the carriage and ride 
through the town to the car. He took his exer- 
cises with Jim Daly, and Delaney, as usual, 
stood by looking wise, until the time of the rub- 
bing-down process came. Then he took a hand 
the same as any other laborer would. That be- 
ing finished, a party of gentlemen waited on 
Corbett and invited him and his party to the 
club, which was made up of the best people 
in the town. I did not go, as I had met 
two young men who knew me and they in- 
vited me to take a walk around the vil- 
lage, which I did and enjoyed it very much. The 



156 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

evening came. I was walking up the main street 
with my friends when we met a gentleman by 
the name of Chapman, a doctor. He was in 
front of his own home and he brought out chairs 
and we began chatting. He was very interest- 
ing. I soon discovered that he had been a Con- 
federate soldier, which, of course, made him 
much more interesting to me. The conversa- 
tion drifted on to the late war, and I can assure 
the reader that he saw service, too. While we 
were talking one of the newspaper staff, Mr. 
Langdon Smith, who represented the World, 
came by and called me aside, saying: "Mike, 
did you hear the news? There is a minister 
here, named So-and-so, who is going to get a 
warrant for Jim's arrest for running through 
the street in a sweater on the Sabbath day. We 
are going to be booked on the regular train at 
2 o'clock. Don't say anything about it. We 
will give the minister the slip." 

I promised to keep quiet, but I did not be- 
lieve the story, because I knew the Southern 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 157 

people too well. After he had gone I sat down 
and began chatting again. I said: "Dr. Chap- 
man, can I take you into my confidence ?" know- 
ing if a Southerner gives his word it's like his 
bond. "Why, of course you can," said he. I 
asked him if he knew a clergyman in the town 
by the name of So-and-so. "Why, yes, he is 
my pastor," said the doctor, "and I am a dea- 
con of his church." "Well," said I, "he is go- 
ing to get a warrant out for Corbett the first 
thing in the morning, for breaking the Sabbath 
day, and running through the village with a 
sweater on." He jumped to his feet like a flash 
of lightning and sang out in a high tone: "It's 
a confounded lie. That man would no more do 
such a mean, low thing than commit suicide. He 
is an honorable gentleman, professor. Don't 
believe it." I said: "Dr. Chapman, your word 
goes with me." 

I saw in an instant that it was a scheme on 
Billy Brady's part to get cheap advertisement, 
which proved to be true. I went down to the 






158 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

station and procured paper in the telegraph 
office and wrote to my friend Harry Kehoe at 
the N. Y. A. C, telling him of the outrageous 
insult that was to be imposed on the people that 
treated us with nothing but kindness. As I was 
writing, Billy Brady came to me and said: 
"Mike, we are going to slip out of this town at 
2 p.m. Go around to the back of the train 
and get on. Don't let any one see you." 
I replied, "I will get on just as I got 
off. Don't mind me. I can take care of 
myself anywhere." We left at the time ap- 
pointed, most of them sneaking around as 
though they had committed some crime. The 
train came along and I stepped on. Corbett all 
this time was in bed. The next morning this 
outrageous story went the rounds of the Asso- 
ciated Press. We went on about 75 miles to a 
little town in South Carolina. We went to a 
hotel, Corbett staying in bed in his car. We had 
two or three hours' sleep. I got up and had 
breakfast and took a walk up the main street 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 159 

and looked down a lane, in which I saw a queer- 
looking old stone building at its end. I walked 
up to the gate and heard a sweet voice singing 
a hymn. I looked up at the window, which I 
saw had bars on it. A man appeared and said : 
"Say, boss, have you any tobacco?" I saw that 
it was a jail. I replied: "No, but I have some 
good cigars which I will be glad to give you. 
How am I to pass them up ? ' ' " Oh, boss, ' ' said 
he, in a very marked Southern accent, "just 
leave them on the gate-post and the jailer will 
soon be here and give them to me." I did as di- 
rected, putting all the cigars that I had on 
the post, four or five, and was sorry that I did 
not have more. All this time the singer was 
still going on, the others joining in the chorus. 
I inquired: "Who is the girl singing that 
hymn?" 

"Oh, boss," he said, "she is the nigger girl 
that is going to be hung next Friday." 

"Good Lord, how can she be so happy and 
going to be hung?" 



160 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

"Ok ? those niggers don't know any better/ ' 
said he. 

"What is she going to be hung for?" I in- 
quired. 

"For giving a baby poison that she was nurse 
for." 

"How old is she?" I asked. 

"Thirteen years old, boss." 

"Good heavens! Are they going to hang a 
child?" 

"Yes, boss," he said. "There is a petition be- 
ing signed, asking Governor Tillman for clem- 
ency. I don't think that the old Governor will 
respite her. You know he don't like bad nig- 
gers, boss." 

I bade my new-found friend good-by. He re- 
plied: "I am very much obliged, boss. What's 
your name?" 

' ' Oh, never mind my name. You are as wel- 
come as the flowers in May. I am only sorry 
that I haven't more cigars with me to give you." 

"Good-by, boss, and good luck." 






THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 161 

I felt somehow that it was a good omen that 
sent me that way. I left two half dollars on the 
gate-post with the cigars. 



CHAPTER X 

COBBETT STAETS FOB THE BATTLE WITH SULLIVAN 

Corbett and his party left New York on Sep- 
tember 4th for New Orleans, where the fight was 
to take place "before the Olympic Athletic Club. 

I joined them at Washington, where, by the 
way, I had my pocket picked, losing a pocket- 
book containing $75. 

The party consisted of # Jim, Brady, myself 
and about twelve or fifteen of Corbett 's friends. 
We had a sleeper, diner and a baggage car fitted 
up with a punching bag and chest weights. 

On the second day out Corbett, Brady, De- 
laney and T were having dinner, and when des- 
sert was served Corbett took apple sauce and 
cream. He ate one plate and asked for another. 
This apple sauce had been made by Brady 's 

163 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 163 

wife a couple of days before and, of course, it 
was not fresh. 

I knew this was the worst thing Corbett could 
eat, as it was sure to disarrange his stomach, so 
I spoke up, saying: " Jim, you ought .not eat any 
more of that." 

Corbett was exceedingly nervous and irri- 
table as the result of his hard training and his 
natural anxiety as to the outcome of the fight. 

He leaned over toward me and snapped out : 
1 < Why ? Why shouldn 't I eat it V ' 

As I didn't want to irritate him further I 
dropped the matter. 

Delaney paid no attention to what I said and 
gave Corbett another liberal portion. 

Shortly after dinner Corbett went back to the 
exercising car, where his bed was, and I fol- 
lowed. 

I found him sitting on his bed, but could not 
make up my mind as to what would be the most 
tactful way of approaching him. I walked up 
and down the car several times, puffing at my; 
cigar, 



164 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Finally a thought struck me and I walked up 
to Corbett, saying: "Jim, I'd give $10,000 to 
be in your boots this minute/ ' 

He looked quickly and snapped out: 
I "Why!" 

"Why?" I said. "I'd lick Sullivan witKouii 
as much as a black eye. Then I'd go on the 
road and make a hundred thousand dollars in a 
year." 

This interested him, as it was, of course, the 
subject uppermost in his mind. 

I sat down beside him on the bed and com- 
menced to tell him what a wreck Sullivan was ; 
that he hadn't been able to train on account of 
the rheumatism in his knees and feet. He knew 
I was telling the truth, as I had had weekly re- 
ports from the Sullivan training camp at Canoe 
Place Inn, Long Island. 

"Why, Jim," I said, "he is so slow he can't 
get out of his own way. His stomach muscles 
are all gone, and he is flabby. You can lick him 
in a punch." 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 165 

This quieted him down and I told him that he 
must not eat any more such stuff as the apple 
sauce he had at dinner. He agreed that I was 
right. 

There was a pair of gloves lying in a satchel 
on the floor. Jim picked them up and went in to 
the front of the car, calling to me to accompany 
him. I followed, wondering what fancy had 
struck him. 

He put on the gloves and turned around, mak- 
ing two or three feints at my jaw and body with 
his left. I stood looking at him with my hands 
at my side. 

1 * What do you want me to do ? ' 9 I asked. 

"I want you to do the first thing Sullivan will 
do," he said. 

"All. right," I answered, and did, as I had 
done scores of times before, showing him how 
Sullivan would slap his thigh several times with 
his left hand in order to get started, then try to 
break down his guard or disconcert him with his 
strong chopping left; then swing his right for 



166 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

the neck and jaw, using his arm as though it was 
a club. 

I then warned him to look out for Sullivan's 
right-arm swing in the clinches and breakaways. 

Corbett said: "Why, he can't hit me in the 
clinches under the Marquis of Queensberry 
rules." 

"Never mind about the rules," I said. "If 
Sullivan gets a chance to hit you in a clinch he'll 
do it, and if he lands that right swing on your 
neck and puts you out nobody will decide 
against him. That's the only blow he can hit 
you and he can't land that if you keep your 
head." 

Corbett pulled off his gloves, saying as he did 
so: "If that's all he can do, he'll never hit me." 

His confidence seemed to have returned. 

We went back and sat on the edge of his bed 
and after a moment he asked me if a glass of 
wine would hurt him. I knew it wouldn't, as 
it would quiet his nerves and help him to sleep^ 
the thing he most needed, so I told him no, add- 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 167 

ing that a pint of champagne, sipped slowly, 
would do him good. 

Corbett called for Delaney and told him to 
give him a glass of wine. Delaney went to the 
ice-box and got out a pint, and after pouring out 
a glass for Corbett put it back. After Corbett 
had finished sipping it he asked me if I thought 
another glass would hurt him. I told him no, to 
drink the rest of the pint. He called to Delaney 
to give him the bottle. 

Delaney replied: "No, no, Jim; you ought not 
drink any more. ' ' 

Corbett shouted : " Give me that bottle. I 
know what's good for me." 

Delaney handed it over. 

In a few minutes Delaney prepared Jim for 
bed. 

I went to my berth and lay there, rolling and 
tossing for about three hours, unable to sleep. 
I was fearful as to the effects of the apple sauce 
on Corbett in conjunction with his nervousness, 
knowing that if he lost I couldn't show my face 



168 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

around the New York Athletic Club where I had 
praised Corbett. In addition to this I had in- 
duced three members of the club to subscribe to 
the stake. They were Colonel McLewee, Ed- 
ward Kearney, Jr., and his father. For Jim to 
lose this fight spelled ruination for me. 

About three o'clock in the morning I rose and 
went into the other car to smoke, in an effort 
to quiet my nerves. I got into conversation with! 
a gentleman who was standing at the door. He 
was a prominent business man in New Orleans 
and a great admirer of Sullivan. After we had 
been there a few minutes who should appear but 
Corbett. 

"What are you doing here?" I asked him. 

"~"Mike," he said, "you were right; that > 

apple sauce has made me sick. I've just taken 
some blackberry brandy." 

"Well, you go back to bed now and if yon 
don't feel better let me know and I'll fix you 
up." 

After he had left I turned to the gentleman 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 169 

and said: "You see what a big boy he really is. 
He knows no better than to talk like that before 
strangers. I hope you won't repeat what 
you've heard." 

He assured me he would not, but Charley 
Johnson heard of it and offered to send a doctor 
to Corbett's quarters. We kept this from Cor- 
bett. 

When we reached New Orleans we were met 
by a delegation from the Southern Athletic Club 
and Corbett and party drove to the club, which 
they made their headquarters during their stay 
in New Orleans. 

I went out to the home of my old friend's son, 
James J. Kendrick, who met me. I needed 
sleep, and knew I would not get it if I went to 
the club with the rest of the crowd. 

That afternoon I went to the house where 
Corbett was staying. He was not there, hav- 
ing gone out for a drive. 

I met there Dinny Dillon, an old San Fran- 
cisco friend of Corbett's, who came down from 



170 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

New York with us. I told him I thought Brady 
and Delaney were misleading Corbett and said 
it was a shame. 

"You know, Dinny," I said, "my only inter- 
est is to see Jim win. My friends have backed 
him, and I Ve got more to lose than any man in 
the party." 

He told me he knew that was true, but that 
he couldn't help matters any. 

After leaving him I went down to the club 
and shook hands with a number of my old 
friends, including Mr. Edward Merritt, whom I 
have mentioned before as referee of the Corbett- 
Kilrain fight. 

From the club I went to the St. Charles Hotel, 
where I met George Siler, the famous referee, 
who was an old friend of mine. 

He took me aside and said: "Mike, you be 
here to-morrow morning about nine or ten 
o'clock and I may have something to tell you." 

I was there on time the next morning and 
saw Siler for a moment. He asked me to wait 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 171 

until he came back. I sat smoking and chatting 
with a crowd of my old friends who were coming 
in right along. 

About 1 o 'clock Siler rushed in and motioned 
to me. 

"Mike," he said, "John L. has tried to get 
drunk." 

"How do you know?" I demanded. 

"A friend of mine from Chicago, the editor 
of an evening paper here, has every bellboy in 
the St. Charles Hotel [where Sullivan was stay- 
ing] paid to give him information about Sulli- 
van. They have just had a big row in his 
room." 

I jumped into a carriage and started for Cor- 
bett's quarters, taking with me John Donaldson, 
the famous second, who had trained and sec- 
onded Jim against Jackson. 

On the way out I kept thinking about poor 
John L. I knew he was going to be beaten and 
felt sure he realized what a physical wreck he 
was. Under the circumstances, can any one 
blame him for turning to drink? 



172 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Donaldson said: "Mike, I'd like to second 
Corbett to-night." 

"John," I said, "he's gotten away from me. 
Delaney and Brady have him under their con- 
trol. I'm going to give him this information* 
though. ' ' 

[When we reached the house I went in, Donald* 
son remaining outside. 

I found Corbett reading some telegrams. 

"Hello, Jim!" I said. "How do you feel?" 

He turned on me and asked in a surly man- 
ner: "What's the matter with you? Are you 
crazy?" 

I knew he was referring to my remarks of the 

day before to Dinny Dillon. 

I was tempted to retort, but checked myself. 
i - 

"Jim, I didn't come here to quarrel with you. 

I came to bring you information," I said 

quickly, in order to soothe him. 

"Didn't I tell you Sullivan would start to 

drink at the eleventh hour when he realized he 

L would be beaten?" 



THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 173 

"Yes I" lie said, jumping up. 

I then repeated to him the story as Siler had 
told it to me. This quieted him at once, and he 
sat down. 

"But remember, Jim," I said, "Sullivan will 
be all right when he goes into the ring." Then 
I continued: "Jim, IVe never asked you for a 
favor yet, have I?" He shook his head. 

"What is it?" he demanded. 

"I want you to grant it before I ask it." 

"It's granted, Mike," he said. 

I said: "I want John Donaldson to second 
you. He'll know what to do in case anything 
happens. He's seconded you before and knows 
how to handle you." 

"What about Daly?" he asked. 

"Let him step aside," I said. "This is no 
time for trifling. Donaldson is a man of ex- 
perience and can help you." 

1 ' All right, ' ' he said. ' ' Where is John ! ' ' 

I called Donaldson in and told him what had 
happened. He and Corbett shook hands. 



174 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Jim and I talked for a while. Then he went 
in to lie down for a few minutes. I went in and 
sat down beside his bed. 

"Now, Jim," I said, "I'm going to say a few 
more words to yon about the fight. Eemember 
all I've told yon about him. Fight him care- 
fully a couple of rounds until you see for your- 
self that he's just as I've told you. Then use 
your judgment. I'll see you to-night." 

I then went to the Southern Athletic Club, 
where Mr. Walmsley invited me to go down to 
the fight in one of his carriages. 

We left for the arena. 

When we reached the Olympic Club I went at 
once to Corbett's dressing-rooms. After I 
shook hands with him I said: "Jim, take off 
your shoes and lie down on the lounge and get 
some rest. The fight won't come off for an 
hour or so." 

He started to do as I had told him. I turned 
away and started to talk to Gene Comisky, the 
representative of the New York Evening Tele- 
gram, a pupil of mine, 




p 

PQ 
O 

o 

w 

w 
O 

o 

Eh 

K 
O 

5 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 175 

While Corbett was taking off his shoes De- 
laney walked up to him (so I was afterward 
told by Jim Daly) and said: "I don't want 
Donovan to go in the ring with yon to-night." 

I saw Corbett slam his foot down on the floor 
and heard him say: "He's my friend, and he'll 
go in the ring, understand that!" 

I turned round and said to Delaney : "What's 
the matter with you? What are you exciting 
him for?" 

Delaney walked away without saying any- 
thing, 

I turned to Corbett and said: "Jim, take your 
shoes off, and lie down." He did so. 

In about three-quarters of an hour we started 
for the ring. 

As we passed through the crowd and walked 
around to our corner, .Corbett received a cheer. 
I remained outside the ropes in the outer ring. 

In about five minutes Sullivan entered and 
received a tremendous ovation. 

I had told Jim that when Sullivan entered the 



176 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

ring he would glare and scowl in an effort to 
intimidate him. My prediction was correct. 

I called Jim's attention to Sullivan's scowls 
and he looked up for the first time. His eyes 
met Sullivan's and he looked up at me and 
laughed loudly. 

Sullivan's seconds busied themselves with 
him. 

It was the first time I had seen him stripped 
since the Kilrain fight, and I can truthfully say 
I never saw a man enter the ring in such bad 
condition. His massive shoulders had shrunken. 
His arms were flabby and looked weak. His 
stomach was covered with layers of fat. His 
eyes were heavy and swollen as the result of 
dissipation. 

I believe Sullivan realized his [Waterloo had 
come. 

I said to Corbett: "Look at him, Jim. What 
did I tell you? You can lick him in a punch. 
Don't mind his head. Punish his body." 

I told Corbett that when he shook hands with 



THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 177 

Sullivan in the middle of the ring the latter 
would try to crunch his fingers and throw his 
arm aside, in order to impress the crowd. I had 
warned him to get a good grip on John L.'s 
hand and hold fast. 

Sullivan did try to throw Jim's hand aside, 
but Jim hung on and laughed at him. John was 
taken aback, as his former opponents had been 
scared half to death before the fight. 

Corbett was the first exception to the rule. 
He was as gay as a dancing master as he 
skipped away, and he turned and looked back 
over his shoulder, grinning at Sullivan and mak- 
ing some contemptuous remark. 

He was the first man who had ever dared to 
treat the mighty John L. in this summary 
fashion, and the Big Fellow was surprised. Al- 
though people generally don't know it, the clash 
of minds has as much to do with winning fights 
as the crash of fists. Corbett kept up the 
comedy after returning to his corner, pointing 
at Sullivan and laughing at him. 



178 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

Time was called by John Duffy, the referee. 

Both men stepped briskly to the center of the 
ring. Sullivan slapped his left hand on his 
thigh several times, chopped with his left and 
then swung his right. Corbett skipped away 
and avoided the rush easily. 

Again Sullivan rushed and Corbett side- 
stepped, jumping aside as lively as a cricket. 
Sullivan kept trying to get within hitting dis- 
tance of Jim, but the latter was too elusive. 

The second round was a repetition of the 
first, Sullivan rushing and Corbett avoiding him 
easily. 

In the third round John started with a rush 
and Corbett side-stepped, swinging his left like 
lightning to Sullivan's nose as he did so. The 
blood spurted from John L.'s nose like a crim- 
son fountain. It was the first blow Corbett had 
landed, but it was a telling one. 

Corbett jabbed John L. at will on the nose 
and jaw for the rest of the round. 

Sullivan seemed all at sea and unable to 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 179 

guard, and when he returned to his corner he 
was in a most dilapidated condition, his face, 
arms and chest being covered with blood. 

When Corbett returned to his corner he said 
to me, "Old man, you're right," meaning I had 
been right when I told him how John L. would 
fight 

I advised Corbett to punch Sullivan in the 
stomach for the next couple of rounds, which 
would have finished him, but, to my surprise, he 
jumped around like a grasshopper through the 
fourth, fifth and sixth rounds, allowing Sullivan 
to recover to some extent from the blows he had 
received in the third round, although he was still 
bleeding profusely. 

When he came to his corner I said to him: 
"Jim, don't you see he's recovering? Go in 
close to him. He can't hit you." 

When the next round, the seventh, opened, he 
walked right up to Sullivan, and as John L. 
drew up his left to chop it down on Corbett 's 
guard, Jim sunk his right and left into his op- 



180 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

ponent's body several times, causing him to 
double up like a jack-knife with agony. These 
blows were the result of the training I had 
given him at ihe New York Athletic Club the 
first time he came to New York. 

I shouted: "Now is your chance, Jim, finish 
him." 

Delaney, however, called out: "Look out for 
his right, Jim! Look out for his right!" This 
stopped Corbett, who in reality had nothing to 
fear from the now crippled and helpless Sulli- 
van. 




JAMES J. CORBETT— 1892 



CHAPTER XI 

THE FALL OF JOHN L. SULLIVAN 

Instead of gokg in and finishing his man, 
Corbett started a series of feints which took 
him about ten seconds. Sullivan recovered 
somewhat in the meantime, but was very weak 
when he reached his corner. 

I again urged Corbett to go in and finish him. 
Sullivan was all in and couldn't hurt him. 

Sullivan came up for the eighth round puffing 
and weak from loss of blood. He was so weak 
he could hardly raise his arms. 

In spite of this Corbett still pursued his hop- 
ping tactics, jumping away from John L.'s 
rushes and stabbing him occasionally with a 
straight left. 

Sullivan was getting weaker and weaker from 

181 



182 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

his own exertions, and in the fourteenth round 
Jim hit him twice on the nose in rapid succes- 
sion. 

It was pitiful to see John's unavailing efforts 
to raise his guard. Blood was streaming from 
his nose in torrents, but he was game. 

"That was a good one, Jim," he said, speak- 
ing for the first time during the fight. 

"Here's a better one," Corbett replied sav- 
agely, and stepping in close planted several 
hard blows on John's mouth and jaws. 

Although I, of course, wanted to see Corbett 
win, I felt very sorry for poor John L., for he 
was in a pitiable condition. 

About the sixteenth round Sullivan made a 
desperate effort to reach Corbett. The latter, 
however, would skip away like a dancing mas- 
ter. It was more like a game of tag than 
a fight. Sullivan became furious and rushed at 
Corbett like a bull, trying to strike him with his 
body, his arms being so tired he could not lift 
them. Sullivan ran up against the ropes, which 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 183 

shook him up fearfully. As he bounded back he 
caught sight of Corbett and rushed at him 
again, chasing Jim around the ring. He caught 
him in a corner and swung his right. Corbett 
dodged, but was disconcerted; then he side- 
stepped and John crashed against the ropes 
again. Then the gong sounded. 

It made me mad to see poor John L. flounder- 
ing around the ring absolutely helpless, and 
when Corbett returned to his corner I said to 
him : l i What 's the matter with you, Jim ? Don 't 
you see he's helpless? Why don't you get it 
over and finish him?" 

As Corbett left his corner I said to him : 

"He can't hit hard enough to dent a pound 
of butter." 

Poor John must have realized that he 
couldn't win, for in the next round he rushed 
at Corbett with his arms down and his chin 
stuck out, inviting a knockout. He would not 
quit, but wanted to be knocked out and have the 
tiling over. 



184 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

During the eighteenth, nineteenth and twen- 
tieth rounds I kept begging Corbett to finish 
him. He replied : " I will pretty soon, ' ' but kept 
up his dancing and dodging tactics. 

In the twenty-first round, however, he rushed 
as soon as the gong rang. He met Sullivan in 
the latter 's corner, where he stood flat-footed, 
too weak to raise his guard. Corbett feinted 
and swung his right to Sullivan's jaw. John 
fell to his knees, but with a determined effort 
slowly raised himself to his feet. Crash! went 
Corbett 's right and left against his jaw. Sulli- 
van fell forward, his face and chest hitting the 
floor. He made an effort to rise. It was use- 
less. 

John L. rolled over on his right side and was 
counted out. 

The house was as still as death. 

John L. Sullivan, the people's idol, had been 
beaten. 

Charley Johnson, Jack McAuliffe and the 
other seconds picked up poor Sullivan and car- 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 185 

ried him to his corner. There they put him 
down on the small, yellow kitchen chair he had 
sat in between the rounds. John was gone — 
not knocked out, but so exhausted that he could 
neither move nor think. As the seconds worked 
over him with ammonia at his nostHls and 
pieces of ice on his head and at the back of 
bis neck he began to come back a little. The mo- 
ment life stirred in him he tried to get up on 
his feet. Johnson and McAuliffe pushed him 
back, fearing that he was trying to attack Cor- 
bett. But John could not be stopped. He was 
hardly more than half conscious when he made 
a great effort. I can see him now, his eyes 
dazed and half closed, throwing back two or 
three strong men with one sweep of his big 
right arm. Then he got up and stood for a mo- 
ment swaying from side to side. He paid no at- 
tention to Corbett. There was something else 
on his mind. Dazed as he was by the punish- 
ment he had undergone, there was still one idea 
that he had to express. His knees bent under 



186 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

him as he tottered across the battlefield. On 
he went until he stumbled against the ropes on 
the other side. He raised his left hand and ran 
it along the top rope until it struck a post. He 
patted the post a few times, then held up his 
right hand. The cheering and applauding 
stopped instantly. The house was as still as 
the stars shining down onus from the black 
sky. 

" Gentlemen/ ' said Sullivan, his voice still 
thick and weak, "gentlemen, I have nothing at 
all to say. All I have to say is that I came into 
the ring once too often — and if I had to get 
licked I'm glad I was licked by an American. I 
remain your warm and personal friend, John 
L. Sullivan." 

There was many a good, strong man with 
tears in his eyes as those simple words were 
uttered. Here was the man who had stood for 
twelve years the acknowledged physical king 
of the human race. In one brief battle his king- 
dom was swept away from him, but he took his 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 187 

defeat like a man. There was no whining, no 
excuse, no begging for another chance. 

In defeat as well as in the hour of triumph, 
John L. stood head and shoulders above all the 
rest. He was on the level when he was up and 
he was on the level whfen he was down. It will 
be many years before another champion stands 
as close to the hearts of the people as did hon- 
est, brave John L. Sullivan. 

Before the fight began a reporter for the New 
York Herald read a cablegram from Charley 
Mitchell, challenging the winner for the cham- 
pionship of the world. 

The championship of the ivorld! Few people 
realize the meaning of that title. 

It means that the holder stands as the ac- 
knowledged physical superior of any living 
man ; an acknowledgment granted to the holder 
of no other title. 

After this incident Corbett and his party re- 
turned to the dressing-room, locking the door 
to keep out the crowd of people who wanted to 
get in to congratulate Jim. 



188 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

There was a great commotion outside, and 
though we heard some one pounding on the 
door, we paid no attention. 

Suddenly a head appeared through the tran- 
som. It was Bob Fitzsimmons, who was at that 
time middleweight champion. 

Sticking his arm through the transom he held 
out a telegram, singing out as though he were 
the bearer of good news to Corbett: " Jim, Jim, 
here's a telegram from home." 

Corbett looked up, and seeing who it was said 
to me: "Take the message from him, Mike. I 
wouldn't speak to that sucker." 

Fitzsimmons overheard the remark and 
looked savagely at Corbett, dropped the mes- 
sage on the floor and disappeared. 

I rebuked Corbett, saying: "You should be so 
grateful to-night for your victory that you 
should make friends with every one, even Sulli- 
van," and added that Fitzsimmons was a dan- 
gerous enemy. 

He said: "I didn't mean it, Mike; but I don't 
like him." 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 189 

I told him lie ought to apologize, but he never 
did. 

After leaving the scene of the fight we went 
to the Southern Athletic Club, where we were 
entertained by Mr. Walmsley for an hour or 
two. 

Fitzsimmons left the Olympic Club with 
James Kendrick. 

He spoke about the incident of the telegram, 
saying, with tears in his eyes, that he would 
lick Corbett if it took him a lifetime. 
i True enough he did, for on St. Patrick's Day, 
1897, Jim Corbett lost the championship of the 
world to Fitzsimmons at Carson City, Nevada, 
after fourteen rounds of hard fighting. 

I spent the night and next day with Mr. Ken- 
drick, and early the following morning I left 
for New York with Corbett and his party. 

On the way back I was sitting beside Corbett 
in the sleeper and he said to me: "Mike, I am 
going to send $5,000 home to my folks as soon as 
I get back to New York. That will enable them 
to pay off a mortgage/ ' 



190 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I told him that was the right thing to do and 
advised him to consult Mr. Kearney about in- 
vesting some money in Bronx real estate, tell- 
ing him that our.f riend was well informed as to 
conditions there. 

Our talk drifted to fighting and I asked him 
what he was going to do about Mitchell's chal- 
lenge. He replied that he had not made up his 
mind. I said: "Well, Jackson is here and you 
know better than I can tell you what he is. Joe 
Goddard told me he was going after you. He 
is a hard nut to crack. Mitchell is only a mid- 
dleweight at best and not as good as he was. 
You'd better take him on first. " 

Billy Brady came into the compartment just 
then and Jim said: "Billy, we have been talk- 
ing about what's best to do, and Mike thinks I'd 
better take Mitchell on next." 

"No, no," said Brady, "don't make any 
matches now. You want to go on the road and 
make some money." 

"Why can't I go on the road after the match 
is made?" Corbett demanded. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 191 

Brady remonstrated with him and they got 
to arguing the matter, and I left, saying as I did 
so to Corbett: "Jim, you are the only one in 
this party I have any interest in. That is my 
advice to you, and I have never yet given you 
bad advice.' ' 

Corbett gave a show in Birmingham, Ala- 
bama, to a crowded house. The next morning 
we started for Atlanta, and about fifteen miles 
out of Birmingham we stopped and had some 
pictures taken which the railroad company used 
for advertising purposes, hauling us free in re- 
turn. 

Corbett received an ovation at Atlanta, fully 
ten thousand people being at the station to meet 
him. 

As I was sending a telegram to my wife, de- 
scribing Corbett 's reception, a man came up 
and, looking at me, said: "Here he is now," and 
turning to Colonel John Y. Blake, afterward 
one of the Boer War heroes, said: "Here is the 
man who licked (Sullivan, ' 9 



192 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

I thought lie had made a mistake and turned 
to him, saying: "No, Jim Corbett licked Sulli- 
van. ' J 

" "Oh, I know you, Mike," he said. "You 
made him do it." 

These gentlemen invited me to lunch, and af- 
ter we had finished, asked me what I wanted to 
see. 

I replied that I would like to go out to the old 
battleground and see the spot where General 
McPherson was killed. They were agreeable, 
and we took a car out there. The gentleman 
who had first addressed me and whose name I 
have forgotten, told us some very amusing stor- 
ies of " Tennessee' ' Jackson, the Confederate 
cavalry leader. One of his stories was about 
the capture of a Union paymaster who had in 
his possession two haversacks full of green- 
backs, amounting to over $200,000, he being 
then on his way to pay the troops. He said 
they paid no attention to the greenbacks, as they 
thought when the war was over the Union cur- 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 193 

rency would be worthless. How they could be- 
lieve they were going to win after Gettysburg 
and the fall of Vicksburg is more than I can 
understand, but they did up to the very last. 

However, an Irish private in Jackson's bri- 
gade kept the money and carried it with him 
all through the campaign in spite of the jibes 
and jeers of his comrades. 

As every one knows, Sherman burned Atlan- 
ta as a military necessity on his way to the sea. 

When the war was over the then wealthy 
Irishman went to Memphis, where he fitted up a 
wagon train with supplies of every description 
and drove it by slow stages to Atlanta, a dis- 
tance of over four hundred and fifty miles. 
When he arrived there he opened a store in a 
big oblong shanty and gave credit to his old 
comrades and to all of the responsible people 
in the vicinity. He furnished them with food, 
farming implements, mules, and in fact every- 
thing necessary for them to start life anew. 

In the end all of these men repaid him, and 
he died a wealthy man. 



194 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

From Atlanta we went to Charlotte, North 
Carolina, reaching there about nine o'clock in 
the evening. There were hundreds of people on 
the station platform calling for Corbett. When 
Corbett appeared on the back platform of our 
car they cheered him and then called for Brady, 
booing and hissing as they did so. 

Four gentlemen joined us at Charlotte. One 
of them, whom I had met before, said to me: 
"Professor, if it had not been for the respect we 
have for you and Corbett we would have tarred 
and feathered Brady for the story he circulated 
about our minister, who is one of the finest men 
in our town." 

.When we reached Washington we drove 
around the city, Corbett never having seen the 
capital before. 

From there we went to New York. 

This trip ended my connection with Jim Cor- 
bett. 

Corbett showed no gratitude for what I had 
done for him and afterward treated me in a 
very shabby manner. 



THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 195 

I was so worn out after my return that I 
found it necessary to take a long rest, and I 
made up my mind to never again have anything 
to do with a prize fight. 



CHAPTER Xn 



SULLIVAN 's SOUND SENSE 



John L. Sullivan was great in many ways. 
He had excellent common sense, and lie was not 
deceived by the flattery of the crowd of hangers- 
on that swarmed around him half so much as 
they thought he was. You will find proof of 
that in the following incident when you come 
to the end. 

It happened after the battle with Corbett at 
New Orleans, and John had returned to New 
York, physically sore from the beating he had 
received, but suffering much greater distress 
from the realization that his power had gone 
from him, never to return. The thousands of 
admirers of the Big Fallow in New York gave 
him a benefit at the Madison Square Garden, the 

196 



THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 197 

scene of so many of his former triumphs. The 
wind-up was to be an exhibition bout of three 
rounds between Sullivan and his late adversary, 
for Corbett volunteered his services, not only 
with generosity but with excellent judgment. 
It is no exaggeration to say that millions of 
Americans were sore on him because he had 
beaten the old champion, and the surest way to 
gain popular favor was to show a kindly interest 
in the monarch he had toppled off the throne. 

The Garden was crowded. Through the thick 
veil of tobacco smoke that rolled and swung 
near the roof you could see that every seat in 
the galleries was filled and that men and youths 
were standing away back of the seats near the 
rafters, where they would be able to barely make 
out the figures in the ring far below. The bal- 
conies and boxes were filled and overflowing, 
and the floor of the amphitheater was black 
with a throng, tightly wedged in, elbow to el- 
bow, of men who came to have their first look 
at the California wonder in action, no less to 



198 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

testify their admiration for the only John L. 

Perhaps I have said so before, but if I have, 
there is no no harm in saying again that the 
American people have never lost and will never 
lose their admiration and affection for Sulli- 
van. He was not only the most marvelous fight- 
ing machine the world had ever seen, but he 
was fearless and honest, always on the level. 
That will never be forgotten of him. 

When the wind-up was announced Jim Cor- 
bett bounded up the steps and through the 
ropes, tall, slender, elegant, a picture of grace- 
ful ferocity, and there was loud applause. The 
announcer introduced him as champion of the 
world. There was louder applause and more of 
it. Then there began a stir at the edge of the 
arena as John L., followed by his attendants, 
slowly pushed his way through the crush. What 
must have been his feelings as he came down 
from his dressing-room and faced those thou- 
sands who had never before seen him in defeat ! 
I don't believe that Napoleon, when they sent 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 199 

him away to die on a lonely little island, ever 
suffered a keener pang than John L. Sullivan 
experienced during those moments. For twelve 
years he had stood alone, the fighting king of all 
mankind. Now he must come forward as a 
mere defeated fighting man, stripped of all his 
glory, and, worse yet, appear in the company 
of the man who had beaten him. But he never 
flinched. The honest pride that had carried him 
to the front still stood by him in his hour of 
sorrow. The deep frown on that rugged fore- 
head showed that he was suffering, but he held 
his head high, and his walk was as jaunty as 
ever. 

When Sullivan slowly climbed through the 
ropes a roar of cheering, handclapping, stamp- 
ing and wild yelling swept through the house. 
John looked up and around him as if he was 
dazed. What? All this enthusiasm for a beaten 
man? Had he still as many friends as this? 
Was it possible? There it was, sure enough, 
and it went on steadily as if it never was going 



200 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

to stop. The announcer had no need to intro- 
duce John L. to that crowd. And he couldn't if 
he tried, for the roar of welcome and kindly 
feeling was still as deep and loud as the roar 
of the sea on a rocky shore. After many min- 
utes, as it seemed to me, the noise began 
to die away somewhat and then thousands of 
men began to shout: "Sullivan!" "Speech!" 
"Speech!" "Sullivan!" 

The Big Fellow gloomily shook his head, and 
walked back into his corner. There he stood, 
looking down at the floor, very much depressed 
and determined not to speak. I doubt whether 
he could have said a word at that moment, for 
his heart must have been up in his throat. A 
couple of friends urged him to say a few words. 
He still refused. They begged him. Finally he 
consented. And all this time the applause and 
yells of "Speech!" "Speech, John L.!" were 
thundering away at him. As he walked to the 
center of the ring the cheering was louder than 
ever. The crowd were determined to force a 
speech from their old hero. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 201 

Sullivan raised his head and stuck his big 
right arm up in the air. There it was, the ter- 
rible right that had smashed many hundreds of 
men into unconsciousness, but now would fight 
no more. The powerful right fist, in its eight- 
ounce glove, looked as big as a football. The 
moment the arm shot up the crowd stopped 
shouting. The silence was so sudden that it was 
painful. The house couldn't have been quieter 
if that terrible right had landed upon every man 
in it. I'll bet no one breathed, they were all so 
eager to hear what he would say. 

The silence was broken by a sound from the 
very top gallery. The voice was old and sad 
and quavering a little, but very clear and sin- 
cere. Just from hearing it I could see in my 
mind the owner of that voice — a dry, little old 
man from the County Kerry. What he said 
was: 

"God bless you, John!" 

Just an old man's blessing, long-drawn, thin 
and shaky, but any one that didn't say amen 
to it was no man at all. 



202 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 



Next day, when they were giving John L. his 
benefit money up at Wakeley's, he was buying 
champagne for all the people around him, 
the same as if he were still the king. A 
lot of flatterers were at his elbow, telling him: 
"John, you're as good as ever you were!" 
"John, you showed Corbett up last night !" and 
"John, you go and train awhile, and you'll lick 
that fellow sure!" 

"Hold on, there!" Sullivan interrupted. 
"Do you remember last night when I held up 
my hand and stopped the cheering?" 

"Yes." 

"And then when it was quiet some old fellow 
up in the gallery said : ' God bless you, John' ? * J 

"Yes." 

"Well, that so-and-so was on the level," John 
growled in his deep, rumbly voice. The flatterers 
quit. 

Corbett took my advice and made a match 
with Mitchell, whom he beat easily in three 
rounds at the Fair Grounds just outside of 
[Jacksonville, Florida, in January, 1904 



THE KOGSEVELT THAT I KNOW 203 

Shortly after this I went to England, where 
I stayed several days and then went to Ireland. 
I stayed there quite a while, enjoying myself 
very much. Ireland impressed me as an en- 
chanted land. The beauty and the gentle kind- 
liness of the people. Yet the country made me 
sad; it was so poor and the people seemed so 
unable to help themselves. 

It is useless for me to try to describe my im- 
pressions of Ireland here, but the following 
little incident impressed me : 

While I was walking through the Gap of Dun- 
loe I came to a man standing in front of his 
cottage. He had a little table in front of his 
door with several bottles of porter on it. 

"Will you have a bottle of porter, sir?" he 
said to me. 

"I'm not drinking, " I replied, "but here's a 
shilling.' ' 

I got into conversation with him, and looking 
into the cottage, saw a turf fire, the first I'd ever 
seen, burning inside. 



204 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

* I said to him: " Would yon mind my going- 
inside and looking at that turf fire? I've never 
been inside an Irish cottage." 

"Cead mille failthe" (a hundred thousand 
welcomes), he replied in Gaelic. 

I entered. The cottage consisted of two small 
rooms with dirt floors. The sole furniture con- 
sisted of a little table, a crude sideboard and 
three rough wooden benches. Their beds were 
bunks, one above the other. The poverty of 
the place depressed me and I went outside 
quickly. 

There were two little fellows inside, who re- 
minded me of my own children. 

I stopped and talked quite a while with the 
man, who told me his name was Moriarty. I 
asked him why he didn't go to America, telling 
him that any man who went there and was sober 
and industrious could earn more than enough 
to support himself and furnish his children with 
an education. 

"Oh, sir!" Ee repliefl, "I hate to leave tKe 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 205 

spot were I was born. My great-grandfather 
built this cottage and my grandfather, my 
father, myself and my children were born 
here." 

Is it not wonderful that the Irish love their 
country, though they have owned little of it until 
lately? 

I left after giving the children a shilling 
apiece and continued my walk. 

I went back to London and from there I took 
an excursion into France. A few days later I 
sailed for America. 

Some time after I returned I was asked by 
Arthur Brisbane, an editor of the New York 
World, to go to Coney Island, where Fitzsim- 
mons was training for his fight with Corbett, 
and have some pictures taken with him for the 
paper. 

Mr. Brisbane and I went over to Fitz's train- 
ing quarters together. After we had posed for 
the pictures Fitz said to me: " Let's go up into 
the loft and have a set-to for Mr. Brisbane." 



206 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

We put on the gloves and after we had 
sparred a few moments I shifted and struck 
Fitz a left swing on the short ribs. 

"That's a good one, Mike," he said. 

"Fitz," I said, "that's the punch to beat Cor- 
bett with. Don't mind his head. Punch him in 
the body." 

I again demonstrated the shift to him which 
I had shown him first a couple of years ago at 
the New York Athletic Club. 

To execute the shift a man should feint with 
his right for the head, throwing the right foot 
forward. When your opponent raises his guard 
shift your feet, that is, throw your left foot for- 
ward, and swing or hit straight for the body 
with your left. 

Charley White, who was training Fitzsim- 
mons, said to him: "That's right, Bob, take his 
advice. He knows. ' ' 

While Fitz was being rubbed down I was in- 
terviewed by Mr. Brisbane, and I predicted Cor- 
bett's defeat. 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 207 

Fitzsimmons practiced the shift constantly 
until he had mastered it, and it stood him in 
good stead at Carson City against Corbett. 

This was my last bit of advice to a fighter. 






# 



CHAPTER XIII 

MY FIGHT WITH DEMPSEY 



I will now go back a few years and describe 
my fight with Jack Dempsey, which occurred 
at Williamsburg, Brooklyn, in November, 1888. 

I was then 41 years old and Dempsey was 
then the middleweight champion and known uni- 
versally as the " Nonpareil.' \ He was then 27 
years old. 

A pupil of mine, Johnny Eeagan, who fought 
Dempsey, accidentally spiked him, although 
Jack beat him. 

Dempsey blamed me for this, when, as a mat- 
ter of fact, I had urged Eeagan to have the 
spikes filed off, knowing they would do him far 
more harm than good. 

I sent Billy Madden, Dempsey 's second, to 
Jack and asked him to delay the fight until we 
could have the spikes filed off. He said he 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 209 

didn't care anything about the spikes and in- 
sisted that we go on. This matter led to hard 
feelings between Dempsey and myself. 

I went into the Hoffman House one night and 
met a crowd of acquaintances, several of them 
brokers and followers of boxing. I sat at their 
table and they got to talking about Dempsey. 
Finally one of them spoke up, saying: "Why 
don't you fight Dempsey, Mike?" 

"What's the use of talking that way?" I said. 
"I've retired now. I've been out of the ring 
for years. I've got a good position in the club 
at a big salary and I'm satisfied. I don't want 
to have anything more to do with fighters or 
fighting." 

The same man said: "Are you afrajfl?" 

I jumped up and said: "Afraid! I'm afraid 
of no man living. What do you mean?" 

This incident caused a lot of bad talk to be 
carried back and forth which widened the 
breach between Dempsey and me. 

A report of the matter got into the papers, 
and finally things got to the point where I felt it 



210 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

was up to me to fight Dempsey to prove to 
people that I was not afraid. 

A newspaper man went to Dempsey and told 
him I was willing to fight him. 

' ' What ! ' ' said Dempsey, ' ' that old-timer ? 
I'll lick him with a punch.' ' 

This remark of Dempsey 's was published. I 
replied to this, saying I would make Dempsey 
regret what he had said to the last day of his 
life. 

I drew up articles of agreement and sent them 
to Dempsey for his signature by Ned Mallahan, 
and later by Dennis Butler, my brother-in-law. 

They were unable to locate Dempsey for a 
month, during which time he was undergoing a 
hard course of training at Far Eockaway. 

During this time I was doing my best to build 
myself up, walking in Central Park with my 
children, eating and sleeping all I could and 
taking a long sun bath every afternoon. 

Three of my children were sick, and I had to 
be up a good deal at night, helping my wife 
take care of them. 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 211 

About two weeks before the fight I sprained 
my left shoulder boxing with a pupil. I was 
also beginning to show the effects of my loss of 
sleep, and several pupils finally prevailed on me 
to apply for a vacation. I did and it was 
granted without question. 

The fight occurred two weeks later. 

I quote here the New York Herald's descrip- 
tion of the affair: 

DEMPSEY ONLY DBAWS IN THE SIX- 
BOUND BATTLE WITH DONOVAN 



Science and Hakd Blows 



The "Professor" Surprises His Friends and 
the "Nonpareil" as Well 



A GOOD OLD MAN 



The Palace Eink in Williamsburg, near the 
Grand Street ferry, was a scene of uproar last 



212 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

night. It was a meeting of the pugilists, Mike 
Donovan and Jack Dempsey, in the trifling mat- 
ter of six rounds, Queensberry rules. 

The sporting world had been excited for 
weeks because of this announced encounter. 
Donovan, once the champion middleweight of 
America, felt aggrieved, it is said, because of 
the rapidly growing popularity of Dempsey, 
added to which the story runs that the latter on 
one or two occasions treated the former in a 
very indifferent, if not supercilious, way. The 
blood of the Donovans couldn't stand that, and 
hence after many interviews it was arranged 
that there should be a public meeting between 
them in the style already noted. 



WHAT THEY BATTLED FOR 

The conditions agreed upon were that Demp- 
sey should receive sixty-five per e©»t., win, lose 




MIKE DONOVAN WHEN HE FOUGHT JACK DEMPSEY 



THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 213 

or draw, and Donovan thirty-five per cent. 
Dempsey, under the circumstances, stood in 
lucky shoes. 

The Palace Eink is an ancient skating hall. 
The stage is at the upper end, and the ring was 
fully twenty-eight feet square— large enough 
for any pugilists. The place was filled with club- 
men, amateur and professional boxers. The 
galleries, too, though not very commodious, 
were packed to suffocation. It was an old- 
time gathering — an out-and-out company of 
good judges of pugilism, and withal prejudiced 
one way or the other. There were fully twenty- 
five hundred people in the assemblage, all of 
whom paid $1 or $3, according to the position 
of the seats. 



PROMINENT PATRONS 

Brooklyn City Accountant William Brown, 
Philip Dwyer, Brooklyn's Corporation Counsel 
JWilliam .0. DeWitt, Denny Costigan, Joe El- 



214 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

lingsworth, Mike Cleary, Justice Schelein, 
Charles Primrose, Mike Gladwin, Jimmy 
O'Neill, Ike Weir, "Soap" McAlpine, George 
Engemann, Jack Hopper, Billy Edwards, Joe 
Coburn, Pat Sheedy, Frank Banham, Phil 
Lynch, Jim Wakely, William Lakeland, Charley 
Johnson, Dick Eoche, "Dick the Bat," William 
Eenn and clubmen galore. It was a mixed as- 
semblage, but then everything goes at a boxing 
match of this character. 

There was much to interest the stranger to 
such scenes. The "Spider" at one time was 
showing his arm, and now and then Joe Coburn 
was shouting: "They are all right." Then Co- 
burn descended from the gallery and worked his 
way to the stage, where he remained, as did Bob 
Smith, Jack Hopper and other scrappers, old 
and young. 

PRELIMINARY HITS AND MISSES 

Like all competitions of the kind there were 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 215 

preliminary set-tos, but they were only borne 
with because it took up the time leading to the 
grand clash. Billy Hart and Frank Boyd were 
the first and did fairly well. Frank Crysler and 
Fred. Chandler followed, teacher and pupil 
James Carroll and Ed. Connors tried hard and 
pleased all hands. And then J. Shay and Jack 
Boylan amused the big crowd with some clever 
work. 

At last the approach of the roast beef, but 
after a long, long wait until the goodly company 
at the feast became very impatient. Cat-calls, 
snatches of the late campaign songs, thumping 
the floor in one-two-three order with deafening 
noise. 



SOME SHORT SPEECHES 

Denny Butler came on the stage, wiped his 
ioiouth, and shouted : * ' Gents — I am requested to 
ask you by both contests to stop smoking. Both 
contests will be much obleeged to you if you do. ' ' 



216 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

And Denny retired, followed by shouts of de- 
rision. 

Mr. Jack DeMott then entertained the audi- 
ence with a lecture on athletics. He "believed 
it developed human nature" — whatever that 
meant — "and athletic exercise was the greatest 
thing in the world for that audience and their 
progeny," whereupon some of the boys made a 
great deal of noise and there was a mighty shout 
when the speaker threw two or three chunks of 
Latin at them. He retired, assuring all hands 
that there was no animosity between Dempsey 
and Donovan. "They're all right!" yelled a 
score and Mr. DeMott waved his hands. 



FIXING FOR THE FBAY 

The wait was very annoying. It was all about 
the referee, Pat Sheedy was asked, but refused. 
Dick Roche was besought, but wouldn't have it. 
Billy Edwards declined. James Wakely like- 
wise. Then, as if to appease the clamor of the 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 217 

thousands, the men, came upon the stage at ten 
minutes of eleven o'clock in fighting rig, 
stripped to the waist, but with overcoats cover- 
ing their shoulders. Butler and Tom Lees were 
Donovan's seconds, and Gus Tuthill and Dennis 
Costigan appeared for Dempsey. The time- 
keeper for the latter was Ed. Plummer, and 
Pete Donohue acted in like capacity for Dono- 
van. Jerry Donovan, the brother of Mike, was 
also in the latter 's corner. Finally both men 
walked to the ropes and requested Billy O'Brien 
to act as referee, and he finally consented. So 
with four-ounce gloves, a yell of defiance from 
Dempsey 's friends and a thundering shout of 
encouragement from Donovan's admirers, the 
men were ready. 

THE BATTLE 

First Eound. — They shook hands, and the 
house again trembled with applause. Then, re- 
tiring to their corners, "time" was called 



218 THE KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

and the fight began. With one glance at 
his opponent Donovan sent out his left at 
the head, but Jack stopped it prettily. Again 
he essayed it, and this time it reached the mark. 
Jack was surprised, and the surprise continued 
as Donovan went at him left and right and 
reached face and head before ceasing. Demp- 
sey thought matters should be squared, and sent 
his left on Donovan 's stomach, which gave 
Jack's friends a chance to yell. Mike was short 
with the left and Jack got to the other's chin. 
Once more Donovan fought the mark with his 
left over the eye, which Jack endeavored to 
square with a vicious thrust, but it was stopped, 
and Donovan's left was on the pit of Jack's 
stomach with force, and the round was over, 
Donovan having much the best of it. 

Second Bound. — Both quick to the scratch, 
and Dempsey retreating, he was followed by 
Donovan, who got rapped for his temerity. 
Mike essayed his right in return and missed. 
Dempsey looked mischievous and managed to 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 219 

land on Mike's head, and missed with a swinging 
right. The applause was deafening. Donovan 
then went at Jack with determination, and 
smashing him full in the face Dempsey slipped 
away, but Donovan pursued, and upon Jack's 
turning he was compelled to do his best to es- 
cape right and left sent at his head. From this 
on Dempsey fought with coolness and judgment, 
but the round ended with Donovan still in the 
lead, which was surprising to all of Dempsey 's 
friends. 

Third Bound. — At work, without a second's 
delay, Dempsey sent out ^vicious left, but it 
was splendidly stopped. He was short with the 
right and so was Mike with the same. Sharp 
exchanges followed, both on the stomach, and 
Dempsey on Mike's neck, a very sharp rap. The 
remainder of the round was slightly in favor of 
Dempsey, but so trifling that it is not worth 
speaking of. 

Fourth Bound. — Donovan the fresher. Stops 
were made by both, but Mike was first to land, 



220 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

reaching Jack's stomach. The latter swung his 
right, but Donovan caught it on the hack of his 
head by ducking. He deserved the applause he 
received. The response was clever and was full 
in Dempsey's face. Mike received a rib roaster 
which he didn't like, but he soon got even by 
two raps on the side of his opponent's head. 
An uppercut with his right was attempted by 
Dempsey, but the old man was too wary and 
got out of range. Lucky again. To the end 
of this round there was much science shown and 
the stopping was of the most scientific order. 
Time was called with Donovan's left on Demp- 
sey 's breast. 

Fifth Bound. — The house was intensely ex- 
cited. The boys on the rafters came near 
tumbling down on the audience below in the ex- 
cess of their joy. They make fighters in that 
part of Brooklyn. Both men jumped up with 
alacrity and without hesitation renewed hostili- 
ties. Bang! went Donovan's left on the other's 
stomach, to which came a return from Jack that 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 221 

was on mischief bent, both left and right being 
used. Again Jack got on Donovan's face, and 
with a right-hander tried the knocking-out 
game, but failed. Donovan rallied splendidly, 
and to the end of the round delivered effect- 
ive blows and had a decided lead on points on 
Jack. A great surprise, but a fact, the round 
ended with Mike's left on Dempsey's body. 

Sixth and Last Round. — Both quick to move, 
and neither the advantage of the other in wind. 
Donovan was first to lead, as he had so often 
done, but it was short. He stopped a wicked 
left of Dempsey's in return when sharp-eyed 
Donovan discovered blood on Jack's mouth and 
claimed " first blood," which was allowed. He 
got on Mike's face with his left, missed a wicked 
one with his right and reached Mike's neck, 
k though not heavily. Then the old man sent hot 
shot into Dempsey's body and face, and with 
terrific exchanges, amid the demoniac yells of 
lookers-on, time was called and the battle was 
over. The referee called it # draw, claiming it 



222 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

was one of the grandest battles he ever saw — 
and he's an old-timer — but two-thirds of the au- 
dience and many of the fighters present claimed 
Donovan was the winner. 

One of Dempsey's bets on the result was, it is 
said, that he would knock Donovan out in the 
second round. 

He lost that wager 'way off. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A WOKD TO THE FIGHTING BOYS OF THE PRESENT 

DAY 

Boys, you ought to appreciate the great ad- 
vantage you have over the old-timers who used 
to fight with the bare knuckles. You get large 
purses because of the liberal patronage of the 
public and the great increase of wealth in the 
country. You only fight a limited number of 
rounds, therefore you know your stopping- 
place. You fight in comfortable club-houses, 
with a nice dressing-room to get a good rub- 
down to promote good circulation. You fight on 
a padded stage, where there is no danger of in- 
jury if you should fall or slip. You have ban- 
dages on your hands to save them from break- 
ing, besides a well-fitting glove with a grip at 

223 



224 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

the tips of your fingers to enable you to get a 
good hold which makes the hands firm, thereby 
enabling you to hit hard without the great risk 
of hurting your hands. If defeated, you get a 
good sum to compensate you for your trouble 
and defeat. The old-timers got nothing. A 
stake of $1,000 a side could be obtained only by 
champions. 

1 Now, let me picture the other side, as it is well 
to know both. I cannot do better than to de- 
scribe a fight I had with the bare knuckles on 
a cold, stormy day. I was just 21. My oppo- 
nent, John Boyne, was about 27. We had to 
ride in uncomfortable cars about 75 miles. 
When we arrived at the battle ground, we left 
the cars to wade through snow-drifts to a farm- 
house. The wind was blowing pretty briskly, 
and when I arrived at the house, I need not say 
that I was very cold. 

The very thought that I would have to 
fight in that snow and cold wind on the 
frozen ground gave me the shivers, but 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 225 

it had to be done. The farmer made us as 
comfortable as it was possible to do in a two- 
room log cabin. I had never met my opponent 
before. I had my legs stretched out at the fire- 
place, and a man sat next to me, doing the same. 
He said to me: "Say, kid, which of those fel- 
lows is Donovan? Is that him over there?" 
pointing to a big fellow. 

"No," said I; "I am Donovan." 

"You!" he cried, and jumped up with sur- 
prise. "Why, you are only a kid." 

"That may be," I said, "but I can lick you 
all right," though I was not so sure on that 
point. 

Eeally, when I saw and heard him I was more 
afraid of the cold weather than I was of him, 
although he looked like a hard-fisted fellow. 

Well, the time came to go to the ring, which 
was pitched between three ricks of hay. It be- 
gan to snow pretty hard. Dick Hollowood, then 
the featherweight champion, well known all over 
the country, had sent a man a mile to the village 



226 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

for two bricks to put in the fireplace and heat 
them so that I could put my feet on them, to 
keep them warm during the time in the corner. 
If it was not for this, I don't think I could have 
stood it. Dick had experience, which served me 
well. The other fellow wasn't as fortunate as 
I was in having an experienced man. 

Time was called. We met at the scratch with 
bare fists and stripped to the waist. A shiver 
ran through me. We began to fiddle for 
an opening. I think to this day that the 
first blow I struck him won that fight, 
although the fight was 33 rounds, lasting 
fifty minutes. Hollowood advised me to 
keep stabbing him with my left when he came 
for me. I did as I was told. He rushed; I 
stabbed, catching him full on the nose. He 
clinched for the fall and I threw him. I might 
say that I was fighting with Hollowood 's head 
instead of my own. My head was a weather 
head just then. I never forgot the cold, but kept 
following my second's advice, which enabled me 



THE -KOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 227 

to keep the lead. Now let me tell the gentle 
reader that I did not get off scot-free from the 
only knock-down in the fight. It was your hum- 
ble servant who dropped as the fight progressed. 
I was getting colder. I did not want to give 
it away to the other fellow that the cold both- 
ered me, but I could not stand the numbness of 
my hands any longer. They were like paralyzed 
hands, with no feeling in them. I picked up the 
bricks and held them in my hands to warm them, 
but the bricks had become cold; so I stood in my 
corner after time was called and slapped my 
hands vigorously, the tips of my fingers against 
my body, to get up circulation. To my great 
surprise and pleasure my opponent followed my 
example. His seconds urged him, saying: 
"Now, John, here is your chance while the kid 
is cold." But John by that time had learned to 
respect the "kid," and was no more anxious to 
hurry matters than I was. We met, however, 
and clinched for the fall, which I usually gained, 
as I was quite a good wrestler. After this he 



228 THE BOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

and I would stand within five feet of each other 
and give our hands a vigorous slapping. The 
crowd laughed at the picture we presented. 

Well, the thirty-third and last round came and 
we began with another good hand-slapping. 
When I felt the blood tingling down in the tips 
of my fingers I led out for him, catching him 
just over the eye, cutting it slightly. He rushed, 
and I ducked to avoid him, as I had been advised 
by Hollowood, to keep him on his legs and make 
the rounds as long as possible, as he saw signs 
of Boyne's legs weakening. I had no trouble 
this way. It was only the cold that bothered me. 
As I ducked, he swung his arm around, catching 
me around the neck (chancery). I tried to jerk 
out of the hold, but he hung on with a grip of 
death, and I could not break his hold. My sec- 
onds were giving me all kinds of advice about 
how to break, and I was trying to follow it. He 
was hurting and choking me. I became des- 
perate, put my two hands above his thighs, at 
the same time lifting him with the power of my 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 229 

neck and back, raising his legs high up in the 
air, throwing him clear over my head. He held 
on to his hold, bringing me with him. He fell 
heavily on the back of his head which knocked 
him out completely. I sustained a terrible shock 
which almost knocked me out. 

I was carried to my corner more dead than 
alive. The fall upset my stomach so that I had 
a terrible spell of retching. As time was called 
I walked to the scratch, with my head bent away 
forward, still retching, when I saw his seconds 
throw up the sponge, in token of defeat. I need 
not say that I could not have fought another lick 
if I received a million for it ; but I won and was 
happy. I was quite sick for an hour or so. My 
opponent came to in a few minutes, and he felt 
squeamish too. We shook hands in the farm- 
house, and he said: "You are a good kid, and 
will be champion some day." I thanked him 
for the compliment. He went away, and I went 
with my party to Indianapolis. I resolved then 
and there never to fight again on a winter 's day. 



230 THE EOOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

My right ear was frozen and my body black and 
blue from the slapping I gave it in trying to 
warm my hands, 

! Now, let the boys of to-day compare the con- 
ditions and see who deserve the most credit. I 
think that most of them will be honest enough to 
admit that we old-timers knew how to fight too, 
and must have been clever as well. I don't 
mean to say but that some of the fighters of the 
present day would not do just as we did, for I 
believe men are just as game to-day as they 
ever were, and as good, too — but no better. 
Character averages about the same from one 
generation to another. 



CHAPTER XV 



MODEBN FIGHTEBS 



In" closing I think it would be well for me to 
give an opinion in regard to the most prominent 
modern boxers. 

John L. Sullivan revolutionized fighting. 

He was the first man to adopt the method of 
rushing at his opponent to destroy him from the 
moment time was called. 

Often John L. has said to me: "What's the 
use of all this cleverness? Go at your man and 
beat him. I can lick any man that was ever born 
of woman." That is how he won all of his bat- 
tles on the turf with bare hands. Sullivan won 
the championship of America from Paddy Ryan 
in this way. He also held the supremacy with 
the gloves. 

331 



232 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

James J. Corbett was a wonderful boxer, 
clever and speedy, and possessed great endur- 
ance. He was never a rugged man, but a fine 
type of the gymnasium athlete. 

Eobert Fitzsimmons was the hardest hitter 
of his weight, not more than one hundred and 
sixty-five, that I ever saw. This was due to his 
tremendous shoulders, back and arms. Mounted 
on a pair of long, thin legs, he had the bone and 
sinew of a heavy-weight man. He was cou- 
rageous, crafty and a great student. 

Tom Sharkey was more of the old-time fight- 
ing man than any other of the modern boxers. 
He would have made a good man in the days of 
bare knuckles. The best summary I can give of 
him is to say that in his fight with Jeffries, who 
outweighed him thirty pounds and stood five 
and one-half inches over him, he was the ag- 
gressor from start to finish, in spite of the fact 
that his left shoulder was sprained in the four- 
teenth round and that the ribs on his left side 
were beaten in. He gave Jeffries the hardest 



THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 233 

fight of his career. He had a hard, accurate 
punch and was always an honest, sturdy fighter. 
Jeffries is a splendid fighting machine; of tre- 
mendous bulk and strength and rugged char- 
acter, to which he has added a great deal of 
cleverness under good instructors. Jeffries is 
the largest man who ever held the champion- 
ship. He weighed over two hundred and thirty 
pounds when he beat Corbett the second time, 
and more wonderful yet, outboxed him. 

Of all the fighters of recent times the only one 
who compares, in my opinion, with John L. Sul- 
livan as a natural fighting genius who battled 
from the love of combat, using only instinctive 
methods to destroy his enemy, was little Terry 
McGovern. 

But among all the fighting men I have ever 
seen or heard about John L. Sullivan stands 
alone. He scorned to study the methods or copy 
the style of any one. He had a natural genius 
for fighting. He never stepped back. At the 
moment time was called he leaped at his antag- 



234 THE ROOSEVELT THAT I KNOW 

onist like a tiger, and never ceased smashing 
until the enemy fell senseless. He cared noth- 
ing for cleverness, but overwhelmed his foe with 
his terrific speed, power and dominant spirit. 
Other men have been students of the game, 
courageous, keen, crafty, strong, enduring. 
There was one greatest fighting man — John L. 
Sullivan, the noblest Roman of them all. 



THE END 



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